


The Circle

by TwoBoys2Love, Wicker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Hurt!Sam, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, Witches, hurt!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 22:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4683851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBoys2Love/pseuds/TwoBoys2Love, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicker/pseuds/Wicker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters find a case that involves the destruction of an ancient and powerful Witches' Coven. The problem is that the Witches seem to be back, and they’re taking their anger out on local teenagers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Circle

The Impala's engine was a steady rumble on the freeway. Normally, Sam and Dean Winchester took side roads but the weather was terrible and Dean wanted to find a motel over the state line.

Leaving behind them a half-burned firehouse and a hole in the side of a motel room necessitated moving on as quickly as they could.

It wasn't an uncommon situation for them. The rain was just an added complication.

"You wouldn't have to speed if you hadn't let that fire get out of control," Sam said after a few miles of silence. He swept his light brown hair back from his forehead and _tried_ to stretch his legs out. It was impossible; at least that's what he kept saying.

Dean's body sagged as his frustration got the better of him. " _Jesus_ , Sam. You've said it about a hundred fucking times-"

"-I have not, Dean. It was-"

"-it was _your_ fault," Dean said over Sam's voice. "You were the one who said you'd burned everything. If you _had_ we wouldn't have been attacked by a goddamn headless firefighter ghost."

It might be the truth but Dean felt a _little_ guilty calling Sam out on it. They both made mistakes all the time. Hell, Dean probably made more than his brother. And, if he was _completely_ honest, Dean would have to admit that he'd also missed the fact that the fireman's axe was an original. It wasn't entirely on Sam that they ended up with an axe-wielding ghost trying to decapitate them.

"I can't believe you're putting that on me," Sam muttered. After a _very_ dramatic sounding sigh Sam turned and looked out the passenger window.

That maneuver usually signified that Sam was done with the conversation so Dean reached out and turned the stereo up.

Kansas blared through the speakers and Dean felt himself starting to relax. He didn't relax often; in fact, he probably only let his guard down when he was in the car. It was his _safe_ place. It was where he was meant to be; speeding down the road with Sam at his side.

Some people might consider it a little strange that Sam was the one person in the world that Dean would choose to be with. Sam was unique. And not just in a demon-blood-drinking-been-to-hell kind of way.

He was so sweet inside it make him a little stupid at times. He was loyal. He'd literally been through Hell but he still worried about his older brother.

There were more things that Sam wanted for Dean than he wanted for himself. Sam seemed to have learned to live with the fact that he wasn't normal and never would be.

The longing for normality still lingered around the boundaries of Dean's mind. Except, of course, when it came to Sam; Sam he liked weird.

"I need a break," Sam said.

One of the things that always bothered Dean was that Sam would never say he had to piss, or _pee_ or whatever. It drove Dean a little too close to crazy that Sam always said he _needed_ a break. It wasn't like he didn't shit like everyone else.

"You gotta go, Sammy?"

The glare that Sam aimed at Dean was colder than the breeze coming in from the window. And it was _damn_ cold outside.

"Fine," Dean relented. Off in the distance he could see the neon beacon of a gas station. He glanced down and saw that the tank was only half full. If Dean filled up he wouldn't have to do it before they hit the road in the morning.

Sam remained silent until they pulled into the gas station. He yanked on the door handle and shouldered his door open. "Want anything?"

"Coffee and a hot dog."

"Those things are disgusting."

"So are you," Dean sniped.

Sam stopped moving then looked back at Dean with a sneer on his face. " _That's_ the best you've got?"

"Go before I drive off and leave you here," Dean said. He climbed out of the car and stretched his arms high above his head.

Both of them knew full well that Dean would never leave his little brother behind. Sam climbed out of the car anyway, no doubt tired of arguing.

Dean waited for the pump to turn on. He watched as Sam moved around the store then headed over to the booth to pay. The pump clicked and Dean pulled the lever and filled up the car.

It took Sam _ages_ to get back to the car. Dean spent a good ten minutes drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He had no idea what Sam did in the goddamn bathroom. It was like chauffeuring a princess around.

Finally the door creaked open and Sam sank down into the car. He held out a paper coffee cup with dancing coffee beans all over it and Dean took it.

"What took so damn long, Sam? You get your nails done while you were in there?"

Sam glared again and opened a plastic bag to hand over a hot dog that was smothered in relish and mustard.

"Aw, yeah!" Dean snatched the hot dog out of his brother's hand and took a huge bite.

Sam looked a little grossed out and pulled a sandwich out of the bag he was holding.

"Wasat?" Dean asked as he chewed. A dollop of relish landed on his t-shirt and Dean pinched it off then licked his fingers.

"It's a sandwich. Two slices of whole wheat bread, butter and some ham and fake cheese."

Dean grinned at Sam. His mouth was still full and he _knew_ that Sam hated when Dean did it. He waited until Sam looked up before speaking again. "Dis s'good."

Sam's eyes followed a piece of hot dog bun that bounced off Dean's arm and landed on his jeans.

"You are _so_ gross." Sam took a bite of his sandwich and looked everywhere _but_ at his brother.

Dean considered it a success. So he went back to chewing. If Sam continued to be a bitch, Dean would play the how-many-chews-game.

The hot dog was gone in about four bites and Dean wiped his hands on his jeans. It was Sam's turn to do laundry anyway.

The bag in Sam's lap rustled and then six or seven napkins fluttered down into Dean's lap. "Very clever, Sammy."

Remaining silent, Sam just ate his sandwich.

Dean wrestled with the lid on his coffee cup for a while then took a drink. It was a little on the bitter side but it would do the trick. He only had to stay alert long enough to get to a motel in the next state.

He fired up the car and pulled back out onto the service road. Maybe another couple of hours of driving before they could sleep.

-=-=-=-

By the time the Impala had pulled into the parking lot of the Bluebird Inn Dean's eyes were burning. It felt like someone had rubbed sand into them.

The Winchesters hadn't spoken much on the drive. Sometimes, that was just the way things went. They were together so much that they didn't need conversation to fill up long silences.

The motel was only twenty-seven dollars so Dean wasn't expecting much. There was a blue wooden cutout of a bird on all the doors and that wasn't a terribly good sign. Butt ugly.

Sam emerged from the office and held up a key so that Dean could see the number: 12. Then he gestured to the end of the parking lot. They always tried to get a room on the back side of the motel. No point in leaving the car out there where anyone might get a good look at it.

Dean pulled around the back. Sam always wanted to walk after he'd been in the car for a long time.

The duffel bags were already against the door by the time Sam arrived. Dean made sure that the car was locked up and followed Sam into the room.

It smelled musty and the decor was from the seventies. But the beds looked clean and there was a big television.

Sam went straight into the bathroom and closed the door.

"Guess the bathroom's okay," Dean muttered. Considering they'd slept in more than their fair share of abandoned buildings, a run-down motel room was an improvement.

The toilet flushed and Dean hear the water whining in the pipes. Clearly it wouldn't be a peaceful stay. Dean had learned to sleep through most things since he was a teenager. What with their father’s snoring and Sam flopping around in bed beside him, Dean had to adapt. He was good at adapting.

When Sam emerged from the bathroom, he already had his jacket and flannel shirt off. He tossed them over the chair at the particle board desk beside the TV. Sam's undershirt had been pretty close to white when he'd put it on early that morning. It was very much _not_ white when Sam stopped in front of his brother. He yanked the bloody collar of his t-shirt down and leaned closer to Dean. "Does that need stitches?"

The cut ran along Sam's collarbone was deep enough to scar and probably hurt like a bitch but it didn't need stitches. "Nah, you've had worse."

Dean poked at the edge of the wound until Sam frowned and smacked his brother's hand away. As long as Sam was fighting back there wasn't much wrong with him.

There were _way_ too many scars on Sam's body considering how young he was. Every time Dean saw Sam without his shirt on or caught a glimpse of him in the morning he felt the bite of guilt in his gut.

"You need any help?" Sam asked as he pulled his t-shirt off over his head.

"Nope," Dean answered. "I'm just gonna be covered in fuckin' bruises. Got the blunt end of the axe a couple of times."

Sam balled up his t-shirt and wiped some of the blood and dirt off his bare chest. "First shower?"

"Go ahead. I'm gonna have a drink."

For a couple of seconds Sam looked like he was going to say something then he shook his head and walked back into the bathroom.

Okay. There was a slight possibility that Dean was a _borderline_ alcoholic. What he didn't need, however, was a lecture from Sam about it.

Dean figured they both had their demons. Neither of them should be making judgements.

There was a bottle of whisky in Dean's duffel; it was stuffed into one of his socks. He yanked the zipper open and pulled the bottle free. He grabbed one of the glasses off the desk and poured himself two fingers.

The amber liquid smelled a little _too_ familiar when Dean lifted it to his lips. The burn of it in his throat was reassuring. He figured he had to be alive in order to be enjoying a whisky sting.

After he drained the glass Dean filled it again and sat down on the side of one of the beds.

The shower turned on and Dean set his drink down on the nightstand so he could shrug out of his jacket. His shoulder hurt like a bastard and he wasn't sure but he thought one of his ribs might be cracked. If he took a deep breath pain sliced through his chest.

It didn't matter; he was pretty sure he'd cracked every one of his ribs at one point or another. He'd just have to take it easy for a couple of days. The only thing he'd have to do was make sure Sam didn't notice. Dean wouldn't be able to take the nagging.

Dean slipped his button-down off then his t-shirt. He was just as dirty as Sam. After he wiped off some of the grime he could see that his ribcage was already bruising.

A grimace disfigured Dean's face for a few moments when he felt gingerly along his ribs.

"I need a better job," he muttered to himself.

He downed the second drink and proceeded to shed his boots and socks. 

He stretched his toes out and examined a weird scrape on his calf. Sometimes he wondered where the _hell_ the cuts and scrapes came from. It was always a bit of a mystery.

The pipes clunked in the wall as the shower turned off. Dean rubbed at the stubble on his face then grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

Some kind of late night talk show blared to life as Sam came out of the bathroom.

A plume of steam followed Sam into the room. He was clad in a towel that was slung low around his hips.

When Dean looked at his brother's back he could see a strange pattern of blue and green bruises had already appeared.

Sam shook his head then combed his fingers through his wet hair.

"Your hair is gettin' long," Dean said.

"Yeah. If we ever stop in civilization before sundown I'll find a barber."

Sam rifled through his duffel and pulled out a clean, blue t-shirt. He yanked it down over his head and shivered. "Cold in here."

Dean nodded and hauled his ass up off the bed. He picked up his glass and padded over to sit it down by the bottle. He grabbed the back of Sam's neck and squeezed gently. "Have a drink and relax."

He'd expected a protest from Sam but he just nodded and reached over to press his hand to the small of Dean's back. "Then you shower," said Sam softly. "Before you are too stiff to move."

Dean met Sam's gaze in the mirror that hung over the desk. He smiled then nodded and headed into the bathroom.

The steamy room was small and looked really old but it was clean enough and it was a shower. They weren't always lucky enough to have a shower.

Hell of a life they had.

Dean turned the shower on and climbed into the tub. He was in a tub that actually drained; things could be far worse.

-=-=-=-

The following day the Winchesters drove for another ten hours. Dean need to feel like they were in the clear before he stopped. It wasn't like they nearly destroyed a fire hall on every hunt. Dean didn't have anything against firefighters; it had just turned out that way.

When Dean felt they were safe they found another cheap motel. It was called something poker related. The room was a bizarre shade of purple and the decorations were very cheesy.

Sam had a pizza delivered and they devoured it quickly before showering and climbing into their beds.

While Sam checked his phone Dean leaned back against the headboard with a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. If Dean had a recliner, things would be _awesome_.

"Find a movie," Sam murmured. His face was lit up by the glow coming from his phone. Every now and then he swiped a finger across the screen.

While Dean flipped through the channels he glanced over at Sam once in a while. Finally, he was entirely _too_ curious about what Sam was so interested in. "What you lookin' at, Sammy?"

For a while Sam stayed silent. Then he dropped the phone to his chest and looked over at Dean. "I think there's a case here."

"Yeah?"

"Well. Not _here_ exactly. 'Bout ten miles into the bush." Sam picked up his phone again and swiped the screen.

"And?" Dean prompted. It had been a while since they'd had to hike to a job.

Sam tossed his phone onto the bed beside him and rubbed at his eyes. "So. There's this local legend about a Witches’ Coven. They held their rituals at a spot in the bush that was sacred to them. Unfortunately, this spot was known to folks from here."

"Fuck, I _hate_ witches," Dean muttered. He took a drink of beer and looked back over at Sam.

"These kind of witches anyway," Sam agreed. "Anyway. Kids still go out there to camp 'cause it's a great place. It's the junction of two rivers and has some kind of pool that's great for fishing." Sam yawned and pulled the sheet and blanket up over his shoulders.

Dean was waiting for the part of Sam's story that pointed to an actual hunt. "Get to the good part. Tell me the end of the story."

"There have been twelve deaths there in the past four years I'm willing to bet they go back ten years to when the _witches_ were tortured and murdered by some drunk idiots from the town.”

"Wow," Dean said between channels. "Guess they didn't like witches either." Dean figured that if more people knew a witch they wouldn't like them at all.

Torture and murder was pretty overboard though.

"Here's the good part," Sam said as he nestled down in bed. "All the people who have been killed since the Coven was wiped out have been killed in _exactly_ the same way the witches were."

Dean narrowed his gaze when he looked back over at Sam. "And no one has put all this together before?"

Shaking his head slowly, Sam closed his eyes for a while before answering. "I found a Tumblr with a story that warns kids to stay away from that area. There's been a weird kind of nursery rhyme about-"

"Wait. What the _fuck_ is a Tumbler?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Computer. It's like - it's like Facebook only- God. It doesn't matter, Dean."

There was a smirk on Dean's face when he returned his gaze to the TV. "What you think is goin' on?"

"Sure seems like the people who've died out there have been killed by some kind of supernatural nasty. I bet there are some spirits floating around there."

Dean shrugged. "Or the two things could be completely unrelated."

" _Ten_ things? You _know_ it's related," Sam said.

Sam was right.There was this weird thing in Dean's head like some kind of screwy radar for hunts. And, yeah. People being picked off in the middle of the woods in _exactly_ the same way the witches all died was right on target. "You wanna check into it?"

"Yeah." Sam yawned again. "Will go to the library tomorrow."

Dean nodded and turned the TV off so Sam could sleep. At least if they started another hunt Dean wouldn't have too much time on his hands. He always hated that.

_Time_.

It was a bastard.

"Night, Sammy."

-=-=-=-

The brothers got up early and set off, tasked with separate agendas. Sam was going to do what he did best and research at the library. Dean was to go and speak to some _survivors_. It seemed that the witches didn't hate everyone. A few times over the years people had watched their friends get slaughtered then somehow survived. Dean wasn't sure why some people were exceptions to the rule but he hoped to know by the end of the day.

Dean had dropped his brother in front of a Victorian-looking building with a _Library_ sign on it, then he had driven down to the local Ranger's office.

It only took Dean about ten minutes to find out the location of the murders. There was a popular camping area about ten miles northwest into the bush. It was at the meeting place of two rivers: The Dunston and the Allward. People liked to go there because it was beautiful. In more recent years most of the camping had been done by teenagers. The Ranger had become a bit tight-lipped when Dean had asked why it was so popular.

Fortunately Sam had already found out that the camping site was the site of ritual practices by the Coven. The news got to Dean via text from Sam. Armed with a bit more information Dean was able to get the Ranger to admit that some teenagers were stupid. It had become trendy to head out into the _deep, dark_ woods and camp at the _haunted_ spot. Once the Ranger realized Dean knew about the Witches’ Coven he became more talkative.

There was a map trapped under the glass covering the counter in the Ranger Station. While Dean watched, The Ranger pointed out the location where the rivers met. It was a ten and a quarter mile hike out to the location. There was no park maintained trail but it was easy enough to follow the Allward River from the outskirts of town.

The Ranger recommended some much better places for Dean to go hiking. He said that they'd issued a warning that there was a mountain lion in the area so that teenagers would be less likely to head out there.

Dean wasn't convinced that anything would keep teenagers away from a site they thought was haunted.

The second stop Dean made was at a local burger joint. Granted, he had really wanted to try out the _Mountain Burger_ but he also had enough experience with small towns to know that kids would hang out there. That he was right was apparent as soon as he arrived.

A bell above the diner door sounded when Dean pushed the door open and most of the people in the place looked up at him.

Dean put on his best smile and headed over to an empty booth next to a table full of high school-aged girls.

It didn't take long at all for Dean to catch the eye of a petite, young blonde.

For a while the blonde would sneak looks at Dean. Then when he would catch her eye she would smile coyly. Dean texted Sam to tell him that it would be less than ten minutes until there was a virile, young blonde Cheerleader sitting at his table in the diner.

Without showing the slightest bit of interest in the blonde, Sam wanted only to know why Dean was in a diner.

Dean rolled his eyes and tossed his phone onto the table. He was just about to take a sip of coffee when a voice startled him.

"You pissed at your girlfriend?"

When Dean looked up he saw the blonde teenager leaning against the seat opposite him in the booth. "Something like that."

"'Course a guy like you would have a girlfriend," the girl said.

"I'm a little old for you, darlin'."

"You're not from around here, are you?"

Dean smirked and gestured for the girl to sit down. "No, Miss. I'm just passin' through. Gonna be goin' for a hike I think.

The girl slid onto the bench and there was a burst of giggling from behind her. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head to indicate her disgust at the behaviour of her friends. "What's your name?"

"I'm Dean." If Sam were there he would have opted to play the big-brother-like guy who was worried about his little sister. Dean's tactic always leaned more heavily on his smile and the fact that young women seemed to find him attractive.

"My name is Jo. It's short for Joanna but my mama only calls me that when she's pissed off." Jo combed her fingers through her hair then wound some of it around her index finger. Dean figured she would break a lot of hearts as she grew up.

"Nice to meet you, Jo. What do you do in your free time around here?" Dean flashed a shy grin at her.

Jo returned the smile and rested her elbows on the table so she could lean in closer. "We drink out in the woods, smoke a little weed, listen to music."

Things were moving too slowly so Dean decided to push his luck. "You go out to where those witches used to meet?"

Jo's eyes widened and she ducked her head down. "How do you know 'bout that?"

"Read about it on the internet." He hadn't but Sam said it all the time so Dean figured it would work.

"You look that stuff up? Wait. Are you with _Ghosthunters_?" Jo asked quickly.

"Somethin' like that. I was just curious. You look like the kind of girl who can take care of herself. I bet you've been out there."

Jo tilted her head to the side and eyed Dean warily. "I haven't been out there but _only_ because I don't want to hike a million miles to go camping. Seems dumb when this whole town is surrounded by trees."

"Good point," Dean said. "You know anyone who's been out there?"

"I did." Jo looked a little sad and Dean figured he'd hit the jackpot. "Last year a few girls headed out there. Only one girl came back after the weekend and she was completely batshit."

"'Cause of what she saw?"

"Guess so," Jo answered. "Talk is that she was babbling something about a tree and people being drowned. When a rescue team went out there, two of the boys were hung in one of the trees and there was another one lyin' on the river bank. Looked like he'd drowned. Two more bodies washed up down river a few days later."

It sounded to Dean like he'd hit paydirt. "What happened to the girl who came back alive?"

Jo picked up a napkin and began to fold it into smaller and smaller triangles. "She was in the hospital here for a while but after a while she was moved to the big hospital in the city. She was committed. You can't talk about witches and hangings without sounding like you're insane I guess."

"True," Dean said. "Must have been pretty scary. Wonder why they went up there." Dean had his suspicions it was just some kind of stupid thrill ride but he figured Jo would tell him.

"Some dumb dare," Jo said. "People have been doing that for a really long time. There's been a _lot_ of people who haven't come back from that place." When Jo looked up she appeared a little worried.

"What?" Dean drained his coffee then held it out for the waitress to refill it.

"You're not going out there, are you, Dean?" The girl looked genuinely concerned.

"No way. I _hate_ camping. I'd much rather sit on the hood of my car someplace and have a beer while I look at the stars." There was no reason for Dean to tell Jo that he'd only ever done that with Sam.

"Sounds romantic." Jo batted her eyelashes at Dean and he had to look away so he wouldn't get caught smirking.

When he had control of himself Dean looked back at Jo. "Girl as pretty as you must be dating the captain of the football team."

Jo smiled shyly and shrugged a shoulder. "I'm seein' a guy. But he's not very mature so it's just casual."

The way Dean remembered it, teenage girls weren't casual about anything but then again she was young to have a serious boyfriend so she might be telling the truth. "Well, he's a very lucky guy, Jo."

For the first time since she had sat down, Jo blushed. Then the table of girls behind them began to move and Jo slid to the edge of the booth. "You take care, Dean. Don't be goin' out to any haunted campsites. You're too pretty to die."

Jo ran to catch up with her friends. They all dissolved into a fit of laughter by the time they reached the door. 

Dean picked up his phone and texted Sam to make sure his little brother knew how awesome he was.

Sam didn't answer so Dean ordered a burger.

-=-=-=-

Dean managed to track down three more people in town who told basically the same story about the site in the woods. He also stopped at a hunting and fishing store and picked up some camping gear they were missing thanks to a credit card in the name of Mike Mangini.

Finished with his tasks for the day, Dean headed back to the Motel around suppertime. When he flung the door to their motel room open Sam nearly fell off the chair he was sitting on. His gun was pulled by the time his feet were on the floor.

" _Jesus_ , Dean. You're gonna get shot one of these days," Sam snapped. He set his weapon down on the desk and tugged his t-shirt down.

"You'd never shoot me, Sammy. You'd be bored without me around." With a smug look on his face Dean put some papers down on the desk in front of Sam.

"What's all this?" Sam spread the papers out so he could see them.

Dean slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the back of Sam's chair. "I found a map to the site, a local history booklet and the rest is notes from some peoples' stories. _And_ , the trunk is full of camping gear."

It had actually been a bit of a tight fit getting everything in the trunk. Dean had picked up a tent, two sleeping bags and some food. They already had a couple of backpacks stored under the back seat of the car. They hadn't used them in a long time but there was nothing wrong with them.

"Camping?" When Sam looked up his eyes were wide and his lips were parted in surprise.

"How else you think we're going to get to this place? It's ten miles out. I'm not goin' all the way out there and back in the same day."

"I _hate_ camping," Sam said glumly.

Dean headed over to the bed and sat down on the end. "We're practically camping all the time."

"Exactly." Sam turned around so he was straddling the chair and staring at Dean.

"Suck it up, Princess. A little camping will be good for you." All the time that they spent in the car made them both look a little grey. “A little fresh air would be a good thing, Sam."

"You at all interested in what I found out?"

Dean nodded before he began to crunch the candy he had retrieved from his pocket.

Sam frowned then rubbed his hand over his face. "I was right; it's witches for sure."

"I _really_ hate witches." 

"Like you said: suck it up."

"I seem to recall saving your ass from the last Coven we ran into" Dean said. The motel room remained silent and when Dean looked up his brother was simply staring at him.

"You done?" Sam asked evenly.

Dean nodded mutely. He always knew when it was wiser to remain silent.

Sam waited a couple more seconds then licked his lips before looking back down at his notes. "The Coven was destroyed over a century ago. The history is a bit sketchy but it _seems_ as though some kids were out in the woods one day and saw the Witches. The kids were really freaked out and they went straight back to their village and raised a stink-"

"Salem Witch Trials, here we come," Dean muttered. He yanked his boots off and tossed them under the table.

"Close," Sam said. "Townsfolk took matters into their own hands. They went back out to where the kids said the Coven had been and murdered them all."

Dean snorted. "And people say that small towns are great places to live."

"Not if you're a witch," Sam said wryly. "This is where things get interesting. Fast forward to when the record get easier to follow. Any time that people ended up camping at the site of the murders and it was near a Sabbat-"

"Sabbat: like Easter and Christmas."

Sam shrugged. "Sorta. Ostara and Yule but yeah. There are four a year and if people were out there around one they were killed."

When Dean opened his mouth to speak Sam held up a finger to silence him. "Yes, there's one in a few days. Since then people have all been killed in the same way as the original Coven members."

"Wow. See? I told you witches were skeevy." Dean looked a little smug and nodded. He wasn't sure what it was about witches that rubbed him the wrong way but he wouldn't be upset if he never saw one again. He had to admit that over the years they had run into a couple who weren't all bad but Dean wasn't going to take any chances.

"Wait," Dean said as his mind continued to work over Sam's story. "How do we know this if everyone was killed?"

"That stumped me at first so I went to the church." Sam flipped through the pages in front of him.

"Of course you did." Dean chuckled. He wasn't sure what that had to do with it but he felt certain that Sam would tell him. As weird as Sam could be, he was good at researching.

After another quick eye roll Sam continued. "The oldest records were the ones kept at the church. Births, deaths, marriages, baptisms. It took me a hell of a long time but I think I managed to narrow down the surnames of the coven. _Everyone_ in the town was baptized at the church. At least, that's what it looked like."

Dean couldn't help smiling. When Sam figured stuff out the way he did, Dean felt a burst of pride. He had learned a lot of his research skills in school but he'd learned a lot of it on his own. Research was Sam's thing and that made Dean feel more confident that Sam would continue to hunt.

Sam pulled out some papers that looked like they were photocopied and he handed them to his brother. "I compared the birth records to the baptism records and there were the same surnames missing every time. Once the names began to change through marriage it looks as though it continued. There were seven families that didn't baptize their children and the lore indicates that there were seven witches in the Coven. 

"I'll be damned, Sammy. You got all that worked out in one day? I'm impressed." Dean really _was_ impressed but Sam looked sceptical.

"Anyway, those are the witches. They were murdered on a Sabat and seem to come back to make sure people don't forget."

"But we know their names. That's gotta be good, right? What about where they're buried?" Salt and burn was always the hunter's fall back position and if they dug up remains they could pull it off.

"You're not gonna like this." Sam grimaced.

"Get it over with, Sammy." There was always a catch. Dean had come to expect it over the years.

"They were burned in their own bonfire. They were beaten, then drowned or hung and _then_ some _really_ helpful idiot decided to burn the bodies."

"Shit," Dean murmured. "So, is it some kind of spell? Some special witch-type haunting? Are we wrong?"

"I don't think so." Sam sounded thoughtful and was quiet for a little while as he stared down at the notes.

"I can hear those wheels grinding in that big brain of yours, Sam. What you think is goin' on?" Dean knew that Sam would have a theory; he nearly always did.

"I think there's something out there that contains something belonging to each one of them. There's a photo of a _really_ old painting and it shows an almost demonic looking circle of witches cutting off locks of their own hair and tossing them into a book." Sam sighed and straightened his notes into a pile.

"We're looking for a book of shadows then," Dean murmured. He flopped back onto his bed. He was beginning to realize the case might be harder to wrap up than usual.

"The Coven's spellbook," Sam agreed. "It could be. There's definitely something out there that's letting the spirits linger around here." Sam dumped the pile of papers on the worn carpet and fell back onto his own bed.

Dean turned his head and studied his brother's profile. Sam had changed so much over the years. His shoulders were broader, his muscles larger but it was more than that. Sam's face had changed. His face seemed a lot more square, harder. He had a strong jaw like their father and high cheekbones like Mom.

Sam's eyes had changed for an entirely different reason. There were a lot of hunts that seemed to chip away at Sam's soul. When they couldn't save someone then Sam's eyes would seem a little darker when Dean next saw them. If Sam felt conflicted about a hunt it would be easier to see the sadness that always lingered around Sam's eyes. Losing Madison had been the start of Sam's transformation. It could have been that Sam had simply realized that things never worked out for Winchesters. Dean, on the other hand, had known how shitty life was since he was a little kid and breathing in the smell of burning flesh.

"What?"

Dean was a little startled when Sam spoke. It had been a while since Dean had zoned out to quite that extent.

"What!" Sam rubbed at his cheek. "Do I have newspaper ink on me or something?"

"No," Dean said quickly. "I was just. I was just thinkin' about the case." Dean had tried to come up with something more believable but he didn't work so well under _Sam_ pressure.

"Come up with any answers?"

"Well, I guess we go camping. Like I said. We find whatever the hell bits of these witches are buried out there and we get rid of them." It sounded so straightforward when Dean said it out loud. The only problem was that he knew how fucking difficult it would be once they got there.

Sam turned his gaze back towards the water-stained ceiling. "Have I mentioned how much I hate camping?"

Dean chuckled.

-=-=-=-

As far as Dean was concerned it took them _entirely_ too long to hike ten miles. Part of the problem was Sam. No. A _huge_ part of the problem was Sam.

To begin with, Sam dragged his ass from the time he crawled out of bed until they were in the car. Once they arrived at the place they were going to leave the car Sam spent half an hour fussing with his boots then his backpack and about that time Dean threatened to punch his brother.

With the river at their right the Winchesters had headed out and it had taken them four and a half damned hours to hike the distance.

Dean had to be fair; it wasn't all Sam's fault. He wouldn't be telling Sam that any time soon. The terrain was more difficult than Dean had expected. The river was swollen with early spring runoff and the banks had eroded for miles. The brothers spent at least an hour clambering over rocks and fallen trees and wading through water and mud.

Sam did his usual amount of bitching and complaining but Dean only threatened him a few times. In fact, by the time they emerged from the brush into a clearing at the ten mile mark they were still speaking to each other. That surprised Dean a little.

"It's gonna be dark in a couple of hours, Sam. Get the tent set up," Dean ordered as he began to survey the clearing.

"You bought the damn thing; why don't _you_ set it up?" Sam wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his forehead and scowled at his brother.

" _God_ , Sam. It's one of those tents that practically just pops up on its own." Dean was tired and sweaty and losing his patience. When he glanced over at Sam he was scowling.

Dean let out a long suffering sigh. "Sam, could you can the complaining for a while and just do it for me?"

Sam looked like he had something else to say so Dean narrowed his gaze. Sam seemed to get the message and think better of saying anything.

Dean walked just beyond the clearing so he could circle around the whole area. Most of the trees looked like new growth except for a couple of huge ones spaced around the circle. When Dean stepped back into the clearing he turned around in a circle very slowly.

"Holy crap," Dean uttered.

"What?" Sam looked at the pole in his hand then turned it around before putting it down on top of the ground sheet.

"Five trees," Dean said. He hadn't seen it when they'd first arrived but it was clear from the other side. "Five old growth trees."

"A pentagram," Sam said as he stretched his back out. "Guess we know for sure we're at the right clearing."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "We're in the right place alright." He suddenly didn't feel so overheated. Standing there inside a natural pentagram was kind of unnerving. Sleeping in it would be even worse. He was grateful when he looked over and saw that Sam was setting up the tent outside the perimeter.

Sam swore softly and Dean looked over to find his brother trying to ram one of the poles through the top ring on the tent.

"For fuck sake, Sam. Give me a second and I'll help you. Keep going like that and we'll be sleeping under the stars." Dean's boots crunched on the deadfall as he crossed the clearing. "Ya princess."

"Jerk."

-=-=-=-

After Dean helped Sam get the tent set up he left Sam to set up their sleeping bags.

Dean invested his time in getting a fire going and deciding what they were going to eat. He had decided that Mac and Cheese was a good choice.

Dinner was ready by the time Sam had finished with the tent. When Dean handed Sam a mug full of pasta he grinned.

"Food out of a mug?" Sam sniffed at the mug and wrinkled his nose.

"Just eat it and shut up," Dean said with a smile on his face. He'd already tasted it and it was pretty good. It was certainly better than most of the gas station food Dean ate.

Sam was shovelling food into his mouth so he must have decided it was okay.

"We should sleep early so we can get going first thing in the morning. We have a lot of ground to cover if we're gonna find this mysterious book of shadows."

"Yesh."

"Swallow; then talk." Dean grimaced.

Sam swallowed. " _That_ is amazing coming from _you_."

"Oh, stow it." Dean was well aware that he did a lot of things just because it pissed his brother off. There was no explanation for it. They were brothers and it was a possibility that all brothers tormented each other. Often it made Sam smile. If Dean's idiotic behaviour lured a smile onto his little brother's face it always felt like a success. There were far too few opportunities in their lives for smiles.

Sam nudged his knee against his brother's and when Dean looked up Sam was holding out his empty mug for more.

"You like it now?" Dean asked.

"M'hungry."

Dean smiled as he dished out some more food into Sam's mug. "Don't suppose you remember Dad makin' this."

Sam dropped his gaze and stirred his pasta slowly. "I don't remember Dad cooking anything."

Statements like that always made Dean a little sad. He knew that Sam had loved their father but he certainly hadn't had a good relationship with the man. He and Sam had butted heads many times.

"If we were stayin' in a place that had an oven Dad would make up the pasta first then grate a _ton_ of cheese on the top of it. He baked it up and man, it was awesome," Dean said.

"Sounds good," Sam muttered. He poked his fork into the pasta a few times then looked over at Dean. "Do you miss him a lot?"

Sam had a remarkable ability to ask the questions Dean would have preferred to avoid.

"Of course." Dean put the pot down and clasped his hands together. "There were a lot of good times, Sam."

Remaining quiet, Sam ate some more pasta. He smiled slightly when he glanced over at his brother.

The unspoken lingered there; Dean could feel it. Sam had never had a _family_ life. The only family life he'd ever had was Dean. That felt like a huge responsibility. "What about you?"

"What about me what?" Sam pulled his jacket closed and zipped it up. Even in front of the fire it was impossible to ignore the cool night air that was creeping closer.

"What do you miss?" It was a bit of a risk asking Sam any questions about their past. There had been difficult times for both of them but Sam had really been through the mill.

There was a strange look on Sam's face. There was sadness in his eyes but his mouth looked tense. "I don't miss anything, Dean. I don't think I ever really had anything to miss."

Dean knew that wasn't true. There had been times in Sam's life when he had made a comfortable peace for himself in the world. It just hadn't lasted. People loved Sam. There was just something sweet about him. In spite of the fact that Sam was a muscular six foot five, there was something _broken_ about him. People trusted Sam. They welcomed him into their lives.

The strange thing was that Sam had never chosen to accept one of those invitations.

"You got quiet," Sam said softly.

"Just thinkin' about how messed up our lives have been." The thought went through Dean's mind more often than he wanted to admit.

"Things could be worse."

"I kind of doubt that, Sam. Last week we nearly burned down a fire hall. Who knows what this place has in store for us? One of us might be strung up in a tree by the end of the weekend." Dean shrugged and pushed a log further into the fire with the toe of his boot.

"Don't be _too_ optimistic there, Dean. You might strain something," Sam said with a grimace on his face. "Besides, it's usually _me_ who gets attacked so there's that."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "There's that."

"Well, that's enough misery bonding for me," Sam said gruffly. "I'm gonna go to bed."

As Sam stood he reached down and curled his fingers over Dean's shoulder. His hand lingered there for a few moments and then he was gone.

The fire popped and embers shot up into the dark sky like fireworks. The smoke was being blown away from Dean but he loved the smell of it.

If Dean was the king of the World they would camp more often. It was quiet and _safe_. Except for the odd Wendigo there weren't so many things to worry about.

While Sam may have been in line to be in line to be the King of Hell, Dean had never been anywhere near being the King of the World. He wasn't even on the waiting list.

-=-=-=-

It was three in the morning when Dean opened one eye to look at his watch. He held his breath for a little while and listened intently to all the sounds outside the tent.

it was a windy night and all the leaves and branches were rustling. The gently _shushing_ sound of the river could be heard every so often when the wind died down.

There was nothing out of the ordinary outside the tent.

Inside the tent things were normal. Dean could hear Sam's deep, steady breathing. It was a sound that was so familiar to Dean that he'd been unable to sleep when they'd been apart. As long as Dean could hear Sam breathing he knew things were okay.

Dean rolled onto his side so he was facing Sam. Another way they were different: Dean nearly always slept on his stomach; Sam always ended up on his back.

They had both slid into their sleeping bags wearing their boxers and t-shirts. The night air was cold and Dean pulled his sleeping bag a little tighter around his shoulders.

Sam's nose twitched and then he struggled to get his arm out of his sleeping bag so he could scratch it.

A crooked smile settled on Dean's face.

Sam shifted inside his bag and groaned. His lashes fluttered and he looked over at Dean. "What?"

"Nothin'" Dean kept his voice low. For some reason he always tried to be quiet in tents. It made no sense because it wasn't like anyone could hear them.

"Freak," Sam muttered.

"That's uncalled for," Dean muttered.

"Staring at me while I sleep?" Sam looked anything but bothered.

"Was listenin'. Something woke me up." Dean had no idea why he'd suddenly woken up. He _must_ have heard something.

Sam's eyes widened a little and he tilted his head. Dean could tell his brother was listening, sorting through the sounds on the other side of the tent wall.

"Nothing out there," Dean said.

Sam yawned and rubbed at his shoulder. "I remember hearing a story when I was a kid. A bear bit this guy's head through his tent. The guy said that the bear was just _curious_ and it was an _investigative_ bite. I remember wondering how the hell they knew that. Did someone ask the bear?"

Dean's brow furrowed and he shifted closer to his brother and away from the tent wall. "Where do you come up with this shit?"

Sam grinned and rolled onto his side. "You scared, Dean?"

"No. I'm just wonderin' how the _hell_ you find room in that brain of yours for all these useless stories."

The bottom of Sam's sleeping bag whipped forward as he kicked Dean in the shins. " _That_ was a true story and now you know not to sleep too close to the tent walls."

"Bullshit," Dean said gruffly. "There aren't any bears in this part of the country." Dean rolled his eyes and then smiled.

"Oh, you can believe that if you want but don't blame me if you get bit." Sam looked entirely too happy for someone who had been woken up at three in the morning.

Dean reached under his pillow and pulled out his knife. "I'm ready for anything, Sammy."

For some reason Sam started to laugh.

"You doubt my hunting skills?" Dean teased. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sam had one hundred per cent confidence in his brother's ability to defend both of them.

"Idiot," Sam murmured. "You warm enough?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. His new sleeping bag was perfect.

"I'm hot." The metal rasp of the zipper seemed way too loud in the tent. Sam folded the top of his sleeping bag down and rested his arm on top.

Dean's gaze travelled the length of his brother's bicep. There was a jagged scar that ran up Sam's arm and disappeared over his shoulder. Too many scars; far too many scars.

"What you thinkin' about?" Sam asked quietly.

"Where'd you get that scar on your shoulder?"

"Huh?"

Dean loosened his grip on the sleeping bag so that he could reach out and trail his finger over the line of red, raised skin.

"When we jumped through the stained glass window." There was a puzzled expression on Sam's face. "Why?"

Dean shrugged then rubbed at the stubble on his chin. He'd have to try and shave in the river or he was going to look like ZZ Top by the time they got back to town.

"Just trying to remember where it came from."

"Where'd you get that one down the side of your neck?" Sam asked.

It had been a while since Dean had thought about the numerous marks on his body. "On a hunt with Dad. You were in your fancy school while I was nearly decapitated by a pissed-off vampire."

For a few seconds Sam looked a little sad. They'd both dealt with their own demons during the time they were apart. Guilt was something both brothers had suffered with; it had just been for different reasons.

"What happened?" Sam finally asked.

There had been a lot of time apart and Dean didn't talk about it much. He wasn't sure what purpose it served to talk about a time when he felt that he hadn't had his brother's back. 

Sam widened his eyes. It was unspoken encouragement for Dean to spill.

The details were still crystal clear in Dean's mind. "Dad had been tracking some vamps. He had found out they were squatting in an abandoned house. I wasn't doing big hunts by myself yet so he came to get me to help him out. There were five of them and he wanted me to have a relatively safe kill."

"I sense a _but_ coming," Sam said as he tucked his arm under his head.

Nodding, Dean sighed. "Oh yeah. The problem was that there were _twice_ that many of them and we didn't know that until we were already standing in the middle of the damn house."

" _Jesus_."

"Yeah." Sam had been on enough vampire hunts that he was well aware of the odds of two men escaping a nest of ten vampires.

"So, how'd you guys get out?"

Dean shook his head slightly. "It was _insane_ in that nest. They weren't awake when we got there. Dad gestured for me to get out but it was too late. As soon as one of them woke up they all did. Fuck, there were bodies flying every damn direction." Adrenaline began to make Dean's heart beat faster and he dragged his thumb across his bottom lip.

"Machetes?"

Dean nodded. "I got two of 'em. Dad probably took out four or five. Then things went south. One of them knocked the machete out of Dad's hand and it spun towards me. Felt like it was going in slow motion."

Sam stayed quiet but his eyes were wide and he was frowning.

"It sliced my neck when it hit me. I snatched that thing off the floor and cut off one of their heads. I tossed it back to Dad and couldn't even look to see if he caught it. I fought like crazy, there was blood all over me; half of it was probably mine. The next thing I remember was Dad shoving me towards the door. We hightailed it out of there."

"Wow," Sam said. "You guys were pretty lucky."

"We were. I don't even know how many of ‘em were left upright. I just did what Dad told me and ran till I could see the car." Dean could remember the way their Dad had slammed the car into drive and punched it. By that time Dean had pressed some paper towel to the cut along the side of his neck.

Dean realized he was rubbing at the scar and dropped his hand. "Hurt like a sonovabitch."

"I bet," Sam said. He was quiet for a while then bent his arm and looked at his elbow. "You know what hurt the worst? When I cracked my elbow. Nearly passed out."

When Sam's elbow had hit the concrete floor in the warehouse Dean had cringed. The cracking sound was something he would never forget. "I swear I don't even notice half the time when I get hurt now."

"I know the feeling," Sam said wistfully. "One day we need to get a cabin in the middle of nowhere and settle down."

"Settle down?" It was hard for Dean to believe that Sam still held out hope for a future where the two of them would have some kind of cushy retirement. "All I hope for is that I get to die in my sleep."

"Couldn't set the bar any lower?" Sam withdrew slightly and looked a little taken aback.

"It's the middle of the night, Sam. You want optimism? Catch me after my second coffee in the morning." Dean rolled onto his back and stared at the roof of the tent.

"You have a real skill for that," Sam said dryly.

"What?"

"Shutting down when you don't want to talk about things."

When Dean turned his head to the side he was surprised at how sad Sam looked. "Sam, don't stress about it, okay? Get some sleep. We've got a hell of a lot of diggin' to do tomorrow."

After a slight pause Sam nodded. He reached out and squeezed Dean's forearm. "You get some sleep too. There's nothin' out there tonight. It's still one day before the Sabbat."

The look on Sam's face made Dean's chest feel tight and he smiled.

And there was a smile on Sam's face as he closed his eyes.

-=-=-=-  
When Dean had pried his eyelids open in the morning Sam's sleeping bag was empty. After a jaw-cracking yawn Dean had let out a loud groan. "Sam!"

"Yes, there's water boiling and yes, there's instant coffee," Sam had called out.

_That_ was how Dean's day had started.

He'd thrown on jeans and a t-shirt and, coffee in hand, tried to figure out where to start digging. Dean figured that the rim of the clearing was probably the best place to start digging. He and Sam had a brief discussion about directions. Dean thought _west_ was of significance to witches and and suggested it might be because of the _Wicked Witch Of The West_. Sam hadn't disagreed but he'd laughed for a while. He thought that north or south might be more significant; it was something to do with Wicca.

The boys had pulled out the collapsible shovels they had brought and began to dig.

The moist earth smelled rich and fertile as Dean turned over one shovel after another. They began digging as the sun came up and were still digging by noon.

All Dean had found was a pile of worms large enough to start a bait business and some uniquely shaped rocks. One looked like a cock, complete with mismatched balls. 

Sam wasn't amused with the worms _or_ Dean's rocks. But then Dean wasn't really either.

They hadn't uncovered anything that could be related to the case at all. Nor had either of them seen the slightest indication of anything supernatural. All in all, it was sort of disappointing.

"This is stupid," Dean complained. He pulled his t-shirt off and wiped it across his face and shoulders. I might have been cold the night before but it was a warm day for digging in the sun.

"We're just missing something," Sam said. He stared at Dean for a few seconds then turned away.

"A backhoe?"

"it's not as hard as digging a grave," Sam said. "So quit whining."

"I'm hot, sweaty and I've found a massive pile of jack shit."

"There has to be something here," Sam murmured. He shrugged his shoulders to resettle his t-shirt and turned slowly to look at the tree at each point of the huge pentagram. "We slept outside the pentagram last night."

When Dean looked up he looked around at the trees then nodded. "We did. Isn't that a good thing? I don't want a witch all up in me."

"Not necessarily, if we want to piss them off so something happens." Sam paced across from one tree to the one on the opposite side of the clearing.

"Want me to call up a crossroads demon and sell my soul for a treasure map?" Dean hung his t-shirt over his shoulder and sat down on a log he'd dragged into the circle.

"That's it!" Sam spun around in a circle then repositioned himself and started digging again.

"What's it?" Dean wasn't getting up for anything less than buried bones or a shrunken head.

"The _middle_ of the crossroads," Sam muttered. he took a knee and started digging.

Raising an eyebrow, Dean watched his brother. "You know, I was kidding about the crossroads demon. I think it's your turn to sell your soul anyway."

"No one is selling their soul," Sam said through gritted teeth. "The center of the pentagram."

It made sense but Dean had trouble mustering much enthusiasm for moe digging. "Good idea. Did we bring some beer?"

"No. We didn't," Sam said between shovels of dirt. He paused and wiped his forearm across his brow. "I'm sure you've got something in your bag."

It had been a bone of contention between them for a while. Sam drank to relax sometimes. Dean just drank. They'd exchanged heated words about it a few times but Sam knew when to let things go. As long as he could get up in the morning and do his job Dean didn't think there was a problem.

Dean did have a flask.

And there was a fifth of whisky in his duffel.

"Yes!" Sam exclaimed. There was a dull thump as Sam's shovel hit something other than dirt.

"What?" Dean groaned as he stood up. His back ached from being crouched over all morning.

Dirt was flying out from the hole Sam had dug then he stopped. "Dean. C'mere."

Dean headed over to his brother and crouched down next to the hole. There was something in the bottom of the hole that Sam was uncovering with his hands. It looked as though something was wrapped up in some leather. It was the size of a book.

When Sam finally managed to pry the item free Dean could see that it _was_ leather. There was a pentagram worked into the leather. There were some runes scattered around the book, on the spine and the cover.

Sam tugged on one of the leather ties that was holding the small package together. "Sam?"

"Hang on." Sam shook some more dirt off the book then glanced up at Dean and shrugged.

"Open it."

The book looked as though it was made out of leather. There was some kind of thread binding the pages together so it was quite well made.

As Sam lifted the cover the book made a creaking sound and Dean half-expected something to leap out of it. But nothing happened.

"I think ... it's a Book of Shadows," Sam said softly.

The pages crinkled as Sam turned them slowly. Dean leaned in closer so he could read over his brother's shoulder.

The book seemed to be full of spells. That was in keeping with Sam's theory that it was a Book of Shadows. "Okay, but Sam this isn't the same thing as bones or a hook."

Sam's shoulders stiffened at the mention of the hook. There were hunts that stuck with both of them and the preacher with the hook was one of them.

"No," Sam agreed. "Could have some clues to what's going on, though."

Dean nodded and leaned on Sam's shoulder so he could stand. "Well, Sammy. You can do a lot of reading tonight."

Maybe Dean couldn't see it but he was pretty sure that Sam would be rolling his eyes. It amused Dean that he could predict his brother's disgust.

After a quick stretch, Dean tousled his brother's long hair. "I'm gonna move our tent _into_ the circle."

"You think that's a good idea?" Sam looked up at his brother.

"All this time, Sammy and _now_ you're scared of the Boogeyman?" Still grinning, Dean walked a few steps backwards.

"Oh, fuck off," Sam muttered good naturedly.

Dean turned and headed over to the tent. He figured that relocating the tent would be a nice break from digging. And there was a hell of a lot more digging to do.

-=-=-=-

By the time darkness fell on the Winchester's second night in the clearing Dean was exhausted. He and Sam had dug around the circle for hours to no avail. Dirty and frustrated they had washed up in the river and cooked dinner.

Dean made hot dogs. Well, he roasted them on branches he'd cut down and then stuffed the blackened meat into buns. They might have been really easy to make but they _sure_ tasted good.

Sam ate two, Dean ate three and then they roasted some marshmallows. It was a great dinner when compared to some of the things Dean had eaten over the years.

They kept the fire going well into the night. Dean would never have told Sam but sitting in the middle of the pentagram of trees in the darkness was a little eerie. It wasn't that Dean couldn't deal with a ghost or a spirit; it was the waiting that had Dean on edge.

Every time there was a sound in the trees Dean found himself tilting his head and listening carefully. It was driving Dean nuts.

Sam didn't seem very settled. He'd been looking around a lot, standing with his back to the fire and staring out into the darkness.

The brothers had always dealt with things differently. Sam was always on guard. He didn't seem to relax when they were in a hunt.

On the other hand, Dean felt like he was in a constant state of readiness. He didn't watch for things to be coming at him because he knew it was only a matter of time before something did. There was always something. And a hell of a lot of those _things_ wanted to kill anyone with the last name of Winchester. 

But nothing had tried to kill them since they'd arrived. 

Dean looked across the fire to where his brother was perched on a log. "It's two a.m. I'm gonna get some sleep. You stayin' up?"

Sam shook his head and stared down at the glowing embers. They'd let the fire burn out naturally But the blackened wood was still glowing in some places.

"I've been through a lot of that book. They were doing some _weird_ shit. There's a transformation spell. I have no idea what it transforms people into but _shit_. That's some pretty risky stuff.

"Well, I didn't think they were making cookies. Those townspeople murdered them in cold blood. They must have been pretty fucking scared to do that." Dean knew that fear did strange things to people.

"People can be scared of things they simply see as different though," Sam added. 

"I don't know, Sam. But standing out here all night isn't gonna make it any easier for me to figure this shit out." To stay on top of things Dean only needed about four hours of sleep. If he could get more he would take it.

Sam closed the Book of Shadows and ran his hand over the cover.

Sometimes Dean found it difficult to read his brother. It was because there was so much going on in Sam's head. He was always thinking about something.

Dean headed over to the door of the tent and reached inside for his flask. "You should drink more, Sammy. Would shut down that mind of yours."

The fire popped and shot a final burst of embers into the dark sky. When Sam stood he slipped the Coven's book into his pocket. "I'm pretty sure the answer to everything isn't a bottle, Dean."

Dean smiled at Sam, held up the flask then took a drink It wasn't the right time to have an argument about drinking. It wasn't like Sam knew what he was talking about anyway.

After a few more bracing gulps of whisky Dean ducked down and crawled forward into the tent. "Next time we're near civilization remind me that we need a bigger tent."

Sam laughed outside the tent and Dean could see the faint silhouette of his brother's body.

Dean shrugged out of his jacket and set it near the pillows. The cool air was drifting in the open tent flap and Dean shivered. "Feels colder tonight."

"It _is?_ colder," Sam said from the other side of the tent. His boots crunched on the grass as he paced around the tent.

Once Dean had pulled his boots off he set them outside the tent. He added his button-down to the pile of clothes at the head of the sleeping bag. He was still struggling out of his jeans when Sam's head appeared through the door flap.

"Hurry up," Sam said. "It's cold out here."

"It's not exactly the Beverly Hilton in here." Dean grunted as he arched his hips up so he could kick out of his jeans. When he'd _finally_ made it into his sleeping bag Dean sighed. "Okay, I'm good."

Sam crawled into the tent and flopped down on his sleeping bag. His feet stuck out of the tent and he kicked off his boots.

When Sam's elbow connected with Dean's thigh there was a minor tussle. Dean swore and Sam snorted. He leaned forward to zip up the tent then took off his jacket and shirts.

"Thought you were cold," Dean said as he rolled onto his back.

"Not now, Jesus. Takes half an hour just to get undressed. Worked up a sweat." Sam wriggled out of his jeans and nearly rolled onto Dean trying to get into his sleeping bag.

"Bull in a goddamned china shop," Dean muttered. He tucked his jacket under his pillow then felt for the handle of his knife.

The tent wobbled slightly as Sam got comfortable.

"Ya done?" Dean tucked his hands under his head and stared at the roof of the tent.

"Yeah," Sam said softly. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

When Dean looked over at his brother he could see a broad smile on Sam's face. "What are you grinning at?"

Sam shrugged a shoulder. "I'm kinda enjoyin' this. Camping in the woods? Just you and me? It's pretty good." The expression on Sam's face softened and he looked over at Dean.

There was something odd in Sam's eyes; a sadness or longing. Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on it. "You okay?"

The unfamiliar expression disappeared and Sam rolled onto his back. "Just 'cause I'm enjoying camping doesn't mean there's something wrong with me."

"I didn't mean that," Dean said quickly. _God_. Sometimes he wished he were _half_ as good as Sam at expressing himself.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said quietly.

"No. I didn't mean _are you okay_ , like, are you a few grapes short of a bunch. I meant that you looked sad or something for a second there." While Dean realized what he said wasn't exactly poetic, he was impressed he got it out at all.

Sam turned his head to look at Dean. They stared at each other for a while. Dean thought Sam looked like he had something important to say; something he was struggling with. But after a while Sam smiled "I get it."

That didn't seem like the kind of statement that would have made Sam look so serious. But, all he could do was accept what his brother said. If Sam couldn't talk about something Dean just hoped that his brother would be okay. There had been too many times in Sam's life when he hadn't been okay and Dean didn't want him to go through it again.

Dean smiled and got comfortable in his sleeping bag. At least they were warm.

-=-=-=-

Dean woke up shivering and because his brother had punched him in the shoulder. "What the f-"

A hand slapped over Dean's mouth and was about to let his fists fly when he realized it was his brother's hand.

He might not be as bright as Sam but he was quick enough to realize something must be going on.

As soon as Sam realized his brother was awake he lifted his hand and gestured for Dean to look at the tent walls.

Frowning, Dean looked over Sam's shoulder and sucked in a breath. As he watched he could make out lights glowing through the tent walls. The lights weren't static; they almost appeared to be circling the tent. The shimmering circles of white seemed to flicker almost like flames.

With his eyes wide open Dean looked over at Sam. His brother sat up slowly.

For a few seconds it looked as though the lights whirled around the tent faster, then they slowed again.

Sam reached for his duffel and opened it as quietly as he could.

Dean climbed out of his sleeping bag slowly and crawled towards the door. when he reached for the zipper Sam's hand settled on Dean's shoulder. They both froze.

A cacophony of voices arose outside the tent. Goosebumps sprang up on Dean's skin and he shivered.

The sound was disembodied. Dean could tell if it was three voices or fifty. The sound moved as though it were swirling along with the lights.

Sam's fingers tightened on Dean's shoulder and he shifted closer. It was clear that the sounds were affecting both of them.

A normal reaction to odd lights and sounds _should_ have been for them to burst out of the tent armed, ready and pissed off that they'd been woken up.

But they were frozen. Each time Dean thought the voices had reached a crescendo it seemed to get louder and more arrhythmic. 

It was _so_ close to being chanting but it was completely discordant. The sound was getting into Dean's mind, clawing at his thoughts like cold, dead fingers.

Dean felt Sam tug on his shoulder but for the longest time he couldn't move. The lights were almost hypnotizing; the chanting made Dean's ears ring and he could feel pressure building in his skull.

They'd faced things that were worse. Dean suddenly felt annoyed that he wasn't able to act and forced his hand to open the zipper on the door. As soon as the flap began to fall open, cold air began seeping into the tent.

Dean shivered again and felt Sam's fingers move off his shoulder. He felt his brother shift behind him and redoubled his effort to slide the zipper open all the way.

The lights continued to whip past Dean's face. The sound assaulted his ears non-stop.

_Until_ , the very moment that Dean emerged from the tent. Head and shoulders through the opening, Dean paused in the silence. It almost felt like a physical jolt after the lights and sounds they'd been subjected to.

He held out a hand behind him to gesture for Sam to hold still then Dean climbed out of the tent.

It was eerily silent in the clearing and Dean squared his shoulders. No lights. No sound. Nothing.

"Dean?"

The tent rustled and Dean glanced down at the open flap. It's It's okay, Sam. There's-"

Then everything turned sideways as Dean was yanked right off his feet. He bit down on his tongue when his head hit the ground and could taste blood. For the space of a few pounding heartbeats Dean had _no_ idea what was happening.

The taste of blood was replaced by dirt and then he was in a shocking amount of pain as he was dragged away from the tent on the rough ground. _Something_ had hold of Dean's left wrist. He could feel his watch grinding against the bones in his wrist and it sent pain slicing up his arm.

With his free hand Dean tried to grasp hold of something but whatever had hold of him was moving far too quickly.

There was a small tree that Dean managed to grab hold of briefly. But it did little to stop his movement. As he was pulled away from the tree and through the bushes everything he grasped simply tore right through his hand. There seemed to be pain everywhere in his body at once. Clad only in boxers, Dean was slammed into broad tree trunks, scraped over rocks and logs. His body twisted and it felt like his arm would be pulled from the socket.

He tried to yell for Sam but all he got was a mouthful of earth. He clenched his jaw and kept his eyes closed against the onslaught of rock and dirt.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice reached Dean's ears just as he felt the ground beneath him change. _River bank._

Dean kicked his legs wildly in hopes of loosening the grip on his wrist but it was pointless. There was nothing to fight against. _Nothing._

Sliding into the river was like slamming into an iceberg. Dean's chest seized up and he couldn't pull in any air. In two more seconds it didn't matter because his face was underwater.

The grip moved in an instant from Dean's wrist to his throat.

He tried to claw at whatever was holding him under the water but he was scratching at his own neck. Dean's lungs were straining, his chest burning but there was nothing that he could do. The water was so cold that Dean's entire body ached.

He reached out walky and made a desperate attempt to grab something ... anything ... but all that happened was his arms flailed through the water.

Something warm seeped into Dean's belly and he let his arms float freely in the water. His heart was slowing in his ears and Dean tried to hang on to the air in his lungs.

But it was impossible.

Darkness began to creep over Dean and his entire body felt warm and heavy. His lips parted and he drew in a breath of freezing, cold water. 

The grip on his throat disappeared and the water seemed to sparkle and then Dean lost his grip on consciousness.

-=-=-=- 

_Cold._

All there was for Dean was cold and the dull ache of pain.

Sam was there sometimes; he was close but Dean was _so_ cold.

Time moved over Dean in odd bits and pieces. Pain was always forefront but there were other things. Dean was sure he was outside of the tent sometimes. Warm liquid made its way into Dean's mouth. It brought a little more awareness to Dean and soon he was opening his eyes and making sense of what was around him.

The tent was the same warm orange it had always been. It looked like it was late afternoon outside. "Sam?"

Something clattered on the other side of the tent and Dean scratched his head.

The tent flap opened quickly and Dean flinched as light flooded in.

"Dean. You're awake!" Sam crawled into the tent and sat down at Dean's side.

The tent flap fell closed and Dean was relieved the sun was out of his eyes. "How long was I not awake?"

"'Bout thirty-six hours?"

"What?" Dean's throat hurt when he spoke and he pushed up onto his elbows The only problem was that the tent began to spin a little bit.

He thought he was going to fall back down but then Sam's hand was between Dean's shoulder blades.

"Easy there, Tiger." Sam lowered Dean back to the sleeping bag and rubbed his other hand back and forth on Dean's chest.

"What the fuck happened?" Dean coughed and Sam reached behind him for a bottle of water. He held it to Dean's lips. "Drink."

The water felt good on Dean's throat. When Sam took the bottle away Dean settled back on his pillow.

Sam put the bottle down and smiled slightly. "Something dragged you out of the tent and down to the river. Pulled you right under."

Dean blinked a few times then looked up at Sam.

"Drowning," Dean murmured. It all made sense. Well, he trusted Sam's explanation. It was a bit of a blur in Dean's mind. He remembered bashing into things. "Was painful."

Sam nodded. "You were pretty bashed up. There are a lot of cuts and scratches on your back and legs. You've got a black eye from hitting something too." Sam looked concerned and leaned forward to trace his fingers down Dean's temple, across his cheek and along his jaw.

The warmth of Sam's touch felt good and Dean closed his eyes for a while.

"I had an iron chain. Wrapped it around my arm and hoped that it would hit something. When you finally moved I dragged you out of the water. You were barely breathing." Sam paused and wiped at his mouth.

As panicky as Dean had felt he could imagine how scared Sam must have been. All they had were each other.

Sam took a deep breath and continued. "Once I got you back up here I dragged you inside and set up a salt circle. I just hoped like hell that it wouldn't be too windy."

"I guess," Dean said quietly. He moved his arms slowly and began to check how he felt. There was a pretty bad ache in his left arm and both of his knees hurt like hell.

"Patched up what I could. Had to give you some stitches. Don't think anything is infected."

Dean nodded and reached out to grab Sam's forearm. He held on until Sam met his gaze. "Thanks, Sam."

Sam nodded then shrugged his shoulder like it was nothing. "I mean it, Sam. Thanks."

It looked as though Sam was going to say something else but eventually he just looked away. "Anyway, while you were slacking off I did a lot of reading."

"While I was nearly dead, you mean?" Dean smiled as much as he could; even his lips hurt and he was pretty sure there was a scab on the bottom one.

Sam''s gaze snapped back to Dean. "Do _not_ joke about that. D'you know how scared I was? You were out forever and you were cut up and beat to shit. For all I knew you could have had internal bleeding-"

"- Sam!"

Sam fell silent and looked down as though he was ashamed of his outburst.

"Sammy," Dean said in a much softer voice. "It's okay. I'm alright." He reached out and grabbed his brother's hand and held it tightly.

The strange thing was that Sam didn't pull away. He wrapped his fingers around Dean's hand and held on tightly. "Don't do that again."

Sam's head hung down and his face was obscured by his long bangs.

"I'll try not to." Dean couldn't help chuckling nervously. He'd never seen Sam hit quite so hard by an accident. They'd both seen some pretty nasty wounds on each other. Maybe it seemed worse because they were in the middle of nowhere.

Finally, Sam seemed to relax a little. His grip on Dean's hand loosened a little and his shoulders fell slightly.

Both of them were quiet for a while. Sam's thumb moved gently over the healing cuts and scrapes on the back of Dean's hand.

After a while it seemed strange to be holding Sam's hand and Dean let go slowly. "You said you were reading?"

"Yeah," Sam said quickly. He rubbed both hands over his face vigorously and then slapped them down on his thighs. "Yeah. The Book of Shadows."

There was a dull and nagging ache running down Dean's back so he shifted a little. "What did you find?"

"I found sentences of another spell hidden throughout the book. I put them together and it looks like a reveal spell."

"Reveal?"

"Well, there's more. While I was reading through the spells I came across a note that detailed how the members of the Coven had all contributed something to a box. It was like a commitment; it bound them all together."

It sounded like Sam may have found something important. "Personal items?"

"Even better," Sam answered. "Locks of hair, blood, nail clippings."

"Gross-"

"-And it was all put into this special box and hidden."

"Hidden where?"

"All it says in the Book of Shadows is that it's within the circle." Sam's brow furrowed and he looked a little frustrated.

"Wow. So that's it. We just gotta find it," Dean said more confidently than he felt.

"I've been digging and fucking searching and I swear I've covered the entire circle and there's nothing. Not a damn thing." Sam sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

It was obvious to Dean that Sam had been through a rough couple of days. His little brother looked really tired and frustrated. And Sam didn't look like that very often.

"You seem like you could use a little help out there," Dean said.

For a handful of heartbeats Sam looked close to relieved and then his brow furrowed again. "You took a real beating. I'm pretty sure that you shouldn't be digging for anything today."

But Dean could see how worn his brother looked and he figured he could at least keep his brother company. "What if I sit by the fire and keep you company? Maybe I could make you something to eat."

Sam scratched the end of his nose, looked over at the door then back at his brother. "Okay. But you better move _real_ slow. I think you're gonna feel like you've been through a meat grinder."

There was _no_ doubt in Dean's mind that it would hurt like hell to get up. But it looked a hell of a lot like Sam needed him. He'd do whatever it took. "There some coffee left?"

Sam nodded and after a loud sigh he managed a slight smile. "I'll make some fresh for you. There's clean clothes over there."

Dean nodded and watched as Sam left the tent.

It took Dean _entirely_ too long to get some clothes on and get out of the tent. It felt like everything on his body hurt.

Sam hadn't exaggerated. Dean was covered in bruises and there were some pretty bad cuts on his belly and ribs. He was glad he couldn't see the damage on his back.

His arms and legs felt like they were made of lead. So, by the time Dean emerged from the tent on wobbly legs he was exhausted. He didn't bother tying his boots and his t-shirt was rucked up around his ribs. But, he'd made it.

Sam did a double take when he saw his brother then his smile broadened. " _Jesus_ , Dean. You look like hell."

"Thanks. I missed your compliments," Dean retorted.

Before Dean could get any closer to the fire Sam was at his side and helping him to one of the logs they used as seats.

Far from stupid, Dean took full advantage of his brother's height and strength. He leaned heavily against Sam and let his brother carry some of his weight.

Even the uncomfortable damned log felt good when Dean's ass finally connected with it. "Okay."

"Okay?" Sam hovered near his brother for a few moments then turned to pull the coffee pot off the fire.

The familiar scent of coffee perked Dean up a little and he moaned happily when there was finally a hot mug between his hands.

After a few sips Dean felt closer to being human. His gaze wandered past the fire and to the rest of the clearing.

"Holy shit, Sam. It looks like a pack of groundhogs went mental out here." There were mounds of earth everywhere next to holes that Sam had dug.

Standing near the fire, Sam ran his hands through his hair and then left them there. He looked out over the clearing and took a few deep breaths. "I may have gone a little crazy but, there's _nothing_ here."

Dean took another sip of coffee and he could feel the warmth seeping into him. "Wait. What was that spell you were talking about?"

"It's like a decoder ring. The spell will reveal what's been hidden."

"Maybe this box of body parts isn't here," Dean said. He brought the mug close to his chest because the heat it gave off felt really good.

"I don't think so." Sam stood with his hands in his back pockets. "I just - I mean the book said it would be buried here and my gut agrees."

Dean had heard stranger things but he'd been a hunter long enough to know that a gut instinct from Sam was a sure thing from anyone else.

"What's next?" Dean drank some more coffee. He sat up a bit straighter and tried to look a little bit more alert. The problem was that he didn't feel anywhere close to a hundred percent.

Sam laughed a little. "What's next for you? Nothin'. For me, I'm gonna try and sort out the rest of the hidden text in the book. There's almost an entire spell but there must be something missing because it doesn't work."

"How do you know?"

"I read it aloud and nothing happened," Sam answered as he looked around the clearing.

"That was pretty dangerous, wasn't it? I mean, you didn't know what it would do." Things like that were the reason Dean needed to be around to keep an eye on his little brother.

"Well, it's obvious it’s dangerous out here. We can't just leave and I know the answer is in that book somewhere. Maybe it isn't that spell but there's so much hidden in the text."

"Okay, but don't go trying to cast any spells, Harry Potter. You could end up making things a lot worse." Dean waited until he saw that Sam was listening and then he nodded.

"Like I said, you weren't here and I _needed_ to do something."

"I get it," Dean said quietly. He _really_ did. There had been times over the years when he'd thought he had lost Sam. Those had been the most horrible moments in Dean's life. He _knew_ that, without Sam, he couldn't keep going every day. Funny, he was sure he'd never told Sam that. He probably never would. It was too much to put on someone else's shoulders.

"What you thinkin' about?" At some point Sam had turned around again and was looking down at Dean.

"What? Oh. You and me," Dean said without really thinking about it.

"What?" Looking a little startled, Sam kicked one of the other stumps over closer to Dean's and then sat down. "Tired of working with me?"

There was a smile on Sam's face but it looked a little forced.

"No more so than usual," Dean said with a smile. He drank some more coffee to buy himself a little more time. "Just thinkin' about how bizarre our lives are. Weird, weird shit."

"All part of the job, right? That's what you always used to say," Sam said dryly.

Dean knew it. There were far too many times when he'd preached words their father had said. He wished that hadn't always been his fallback when trying to calm Sam down. The problem was that Dean didn't have all the answers and always felt like he should. It was always hardest when Sam was the one asking the questions.

"Sam, I say a lot of stupid things. But, yeah. I guess it's part of what we do. I'm not even sure how to stop doing it. I figure I couldn't live with what might happen to the people we help. If I don't do it, who will?"

"I guess." Sam picked up a branch and stuck it into the fire.

They'd both had brief attempts at _normal lives_. It hadn't worked out for Dean But it wasn't the same for Sam. Sam had _normal_ snatched away from him in the most horrendous way. 

"You want out?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam looked over at his brother for a few moments then back at the fire. "Yes... and no. Not sure I know how to be around normal people anymore."

It wasn't a particularly positive answer but it was the truth. Dean nodded and drained his coffee cup. "Maybe we could take some time off after this."

" _Off_? It's not like we can call for a moratorium on supernatural shit." Sam scoffed and poked at the fire a little more aggressively.

"No," Dean agreed. "But we aren't the only hunters in the world."

"We're the best."

Dean couldn't help but smile. "The world would survive without us."

"So, where? Vegas for a weekend?"

Dean shook his head. "We could go camping or something."

Sam sat back from the fire so fast he almost dropped his stick. "Are you _kidding_ me? After all this I won't be camping ever again."

It was understandable. Camping in an ancient pentagram probably wasn't the best idea they'd ever had. "I guess."

"Don't worry about me, Dean. Okay, I was a bit rattled but I think that's a pretty damned normal reaction to you almost dying."

The only sound for a while was the popping and cracking of the fire. Such a familiar sound. Dean stared into the flames and tried not to look as exhausted as he felt.

"Why don't you get some more rest? You look like death warmed over."

"I'm okay," Dean lied. He was a little worried about Sam obsessing over the Book of Shadows and turning himself into a toad or worse. Witches had a way of fucking things up and they didn't have to be alive to do it.

"If I tap you on the shoulder you'll fall off that stump," Sam said warmly. "Go lie down and I'll bring you something to eat. I brought peanut butter.

"Be still my beating heart." Dean chuckled. "Not really a selling point but I'll go along with it. Half hour or so."

Sam looked sceptical but he was still smiling. He stood and held out a hand so he could haul Dean to his feet.

Dean's knees weren't too cooperative and he staggered forward. Just like always, Sam was right there. He had both arms under Dean's and held him there. "Yeah, Dean. You're fine."

"My foot went to sleep," Dean muttered.

"Right." Sam turned a little and pulled Dean's arm over his shoulder. He helped his brother back over to the ten and _supervised_ as Dean crawled back into the tent.

Dean fell face down onto his sleeping bag. It couldn't have felt better it it were an over-stuffed mattress at the Hilton. He really didn't want to admit it but the beating had taken a lot out of him. It had nothing to do with pride, Dean just didn't need his brother worrying whether or not Dean was well enough to be reliable.

He'd walk through hell to help Sam. Literally.

He'd just do it later when he didn't feel like he'd been run over a couple of times by a tank.

Dean could hear Sam moving around. The wind had picked up again and the leaves were whispering all around the circle. Even with the sun still high above the horizon it was a little eerie. It was no wonder teenagers still hiked out to the place to scare their asses off.

"Incoming," Sam said from the other side of the tent flap.

All Dean managed was a weak grunt. He half-heartedly tried to move over but it wasn't successful.

The tent shook slightly as Sam crawled inside. He sat cross-legged on his own sleeping bag and set the sandwich down on his notebook. "Try and eat something. I got you to drink yesterday but I couldn't get you to eat."

Dean reached out and grabbed the sandwich. He was hungry; he just wished the food would feed itself to him. He sank his teeth into the bread and bit off a chunk. The peanut butter tasted pretty good.

There was a bottle of water by Sam's pillow and he held it up to show Dean before putting it next to the sandwich.

"You okay?"

Still chewing, Dean nodded. He took a mental inventory of how his body felt. His head ached like hell, his back felt like someone had cemented his spine. There were aches and pains all over his body - no doubt from all the cuts, scrapes and collisions. Even his tongue hurt a little while he chewed.

"Sandwich okay?" Sam asked.

Sam's question startled Dean from his thought and he coughed as he tried to swallow the bit of sandwich. "S'good. You know ...you could read that thing in here."

For a few seconds Sam looked confused then he pressed his lips together and nodded.

He probably figured that Dean wanted the company but what Dean _wanted_ was to keep an eye on Sam without having to drag his half-dead self back out to the fire.

Sam leaned over towards the tent flap and picked up the old book from just outside.

Dean took another bit of the sandwich then set it down and pushed it towards Sam.

"Done?" Sam shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over Dean's back.

It smelled like _Sam_.

Dean nodded and tucked his arm under his pillow. Sleeping for about two hundred years seemed like a good idea.

The pages of the book crinkled as Sam flipped them. He stopped about midway through the book and picked up his notebook and a pen. 

Sam, the researcher.

The tug of exhaustion was too much for Dean and he closed his eyes reluctantly. He heard the comforting sound of Sam's breathing for a while. As he fell asleep he was thinking about how much he owed Sam. And at the rate he was going he would never get ahead of anything when it came to Sam.

-=-=-=-

It was dark the next time Dean opened his eyes. Dean was disoriented for a while then he saw the flickering light of the camp fire.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. How you feeling now? Any better?" Sam closed the Book of Shadows and set it down beside his pillow.

It took Dean a little while to get his bearings and come up with an answer. "Feel like someone dropped a building on me."

"I'm not sure if that's better or worse than twelve hours ago." With a smile on his face Sam leaned forward and pressed his wrist to Dean's forehead. "No fever. That's good."

"Just a few aches." Dean rubbed at his eyes. He was having trouble convincing himself to stay awake.

"Hungry?"

"Nah. Gotta take a leak though."

"Not gonna help you with that."

"Probably a good thing." Dean grunted as he sat up. He rubbed at his aching neck and crawled towards the tent flap. He hesitated when cold air licked at his face. His eyes moved automatically to the salt circle. Sam had made a perfect salt circle, of course. It looked thick enough that they shouldn't have to worry about it blowing away.

The evening was cool and still and Dean would be lying if he said he didn't hesitate before stepping over the protective circle.

He paced away, thankful he'd fallen asleep with his boots on. The grass and sticks crunched underfoot and Dean headed out of the pentagram. It seemed like there could be more daylight but that could be psychological.

Dean relieved himself as fast as he could and hurried back to the small circle of light that stretched out from the fire. He stood at the fire's edge for a couple of seconds, put another log on it then headed back to the tent.

"S'cold," Dean said through clenched teeth.

"Yeah. Temp's gone down steadily. Nothing weird going on so far though, so that's good."

"Yeah. 'Specially seeing as we haven't found Pandora's box yet." Dean grunted as he sank down to his sleeping bag again. When he looked up, Sam was staring wide eyed. "What?"

"A classical reference?"

"Oh, fuck off."

Laughing, Sam leaned forward so he could see out of the screened window in the tent flap. "Should I leave this fire going?"

"Yeah. It's not gonna hurt anything. It's not exactly a bonfire." Dean unlaced his boots and yanked them off. He remembered to set them just inside the flap with the laces loose in case he had to get them on quickly. He opted for leaving his jeans and t-shirt on but slid his arms out of his jacket.

"Can't believe you slept that long. And with all your clothes on." Sam pulled his own jacket off and folded it before untying his boots.

"I'm not gonna fall for the sleeping undressed thing again. Feel like I was attacked with a cheese grater."

"That's not far off what your back looks like," Sam said wryly. He looked a little traumatized by what he'd seen.

Dean was still traumatized by the whole experience. It wasn't the injuries or the lingering pain, it was being yanked through the dark by something he wasn't able to fight.

He'd never walk away from a fair fight but spirits of witches was a whole other thing. An annoying and skeevy thing.

"Before you get n the bag lemme take a look at your back," Sam said. He didn't sound like he would be swayed from it so Dean sat up and turned around.

Sam shifted closer and grabbed the hem of Dean's t-shirt so he could push it up. He reached into the mesh pocket hanging from the end of the tent and pulled out some ointment.

Dean rested his elbows on his knees. "Where'd you get that?"

"I always have some first aid stuff in my duffel. I work with _you_."

Dean could hear the smile in his brother's voice. "Very funny. If you'd gone through that flap first it would have been you."

"Yup," Sam said. "Not like you ever let me go first."

"If something happens tonight knock yourself out," Dean deadpanned. The way his body ached he doubted that he could move fast enough to beat Sam to the draw.

When Sam's fingers touched down on Dean's shoulder blade he couldn't help jumping.

"Sorry," Sam said quickly.

"Just surprised me is all." It did hurt a little when Sam spread the ointment over the cuts. There were a hell of a lot of cuts judging by the movements of Sam's fingers.

"We fight all these things," Sam said. "Figures that it would be witches that caused this much damage to ya."

"I _hate_ witches," Dean muttered.

"I'm unlikely to forget that," Sam said fondly.

"I have one thing to say," Dean said with a grin on his face. "Clowns."

"That's _so_ not the same thing," Sam protested.

"Why not?"

"Because clowns are a real, non-supernatural thing," Sam said.

"Depends on the clown."

"Yeah. Good point," Sam agreed. "This is a bad one," Sam warned as his finger slid across the small of Dean's back.

As hard as he tried not to react Dean felt his shoulders stiffen and he held his breath. It hurt like hell.

"I probably should have put stitches in it but I was more worried about getting you warm the other night."

Dean nodded and kept his teeth clenched.

"What do you remember?" Sam's fingers kept moving.

"Not a lot. Something grabbed me as I stood up. I remember trying to grab things but I was just moving way too fast. Think that's how I bashed up my wrist.

"Yeah, it looked pretty swollen at first."

"And the water was _fucking_ cold. I don't remember you pulling me out but I remember thinking you were there."

"I've never run so fast in my life," Sam said softly.

Dean never doubted that.

Sam's fingers moved to the back of Dean's neck as he let the t-shirt go. Dean hadn't even realized there were cuts on his neck.

The touch was gentle and Dean closed his eyes. He could feel warmth travelling down his spine and his shoulders finally relaxed.

"I guess," Dean said. "I guess we need to stay alert tonight."

Sam's hand curled over Dean's shoulder and he rubbed it gently. " _You_ need to rest. I can keep an eye on things."

"I slept all day, Sam."

"Because you needed to," Sam countered quickly. "You were really damn hurt, Dean. I need you not to be."

Dean was starting to get frustrated. "Sam, I've been hurt nearly every fucking time we've gone on a hunt. This is nothing new and I can still pull my weight."

"If you need to, yeah. But if nothing happens you need to sleep." There was a waver in Sam's voice that Dean didn't like.

"No, Sam. I'm fine. I've had worse, we both have."

"But you've never been drowned before. You weren't breathing, Dean." Sam's grip on Dean's shoulder tightened.

It hadn't occurred to Dean that he'd been that close to death. It explained why Sam was so shaken. "What did you do?"

"CPR. After a few breaths half the river came out of your mouth and then you started coughing. It was a great sound." Sam sighed and his hands smoothed down the back of Dean's t-shirt.

Dean turned around so he could see Sam. He was surprised to see tears in his brother's eyes. It was pretty rare that Sam was moved to tears after everything they'd been through.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I really am. I should have been more careful."

"I don't know how long I can do this, Dean."

"Just a couple more days and we can head out."

"No. Hunting. I can't keep hunting. Not with you. Not like this." Sam's breath hitched and he turned away from his brother.

Everything was moving a little too quickly for Dean. One minute everything seemed to be going perfectly well and then, out of the blue, Sam didn't want to hunt with him anymore.

"Okay. Sam? Am I missing something, here? Things were fine a little while ago and now you can't hunt with me. I know this is a shitty job but it won't last that long."

"You're missing the point, Dean. Look. You need to rest-"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_. You can't just drop a bomb like that and then tell me to go to sleep. That's not gonna happen. What the hell is going on?"

Sam shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. "I don't even know what I'm talking about. I've been worried and tired and stuff." Even Sam didn't look convinced of his excuse. In fact, he looked a little like he was grimacing.

"Look at me, Sam." Dean waited until his brother opened his eyes and met Dean's gaze.

"Sam. Why don't you want to hunt with me anymore? Have I done something wrong? Something different?" Dean knew that he did stupid shit all the time. He made mistakes but Sam had always been the one who forgave Dean. He wasn't sure he was prepared for a version of Sam who didn't want to be around him anymore.

"I didn't mean that." Sam shoved his hair out of his eyes and looked frustrated.

"Then what did you mean? Don't leave me hangin' here, Bro." The previous twenty-four hours had been _shitty_ and now Dean had to deal with feeling as though he'd let Sam down so badly he wanted out.

Sam pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took a few deep breaths. There was a sheen of sweat on his upper lip. When he took his hands from his face they were shaking.

"Sam."

"If it's not you gettin' hurt, it's me. One of us is gonna get killed one of these days. And then what? I bury you and I do what? I have nothing. I have no home, no job other than hunting, no skills I can use anywhere, well, anywhere people wouldn't think I was a psychopath."

"Sam!" Dean interrupted.

"No." Sam held up his hands like he was trying to hold Dean at bay. "You asked and you don't get to stop me. I don't want you to fucking die, Dean. Do you have _any_ idea how I felt when I pulled you out of the river? You weren't moving; you weren't breathing. You were bleeding from ... everywhere. How am I supposed to keep dealing with that?" Sam sat there panting as he stared angrily at Dean.

It took a while for Dean to realize that he was actually allowed and expected to speak. "Sammy, it's always been a bit like this. It's dangerous but we do a lot of good. We save people."

"The family business," Sam said wryly.

"Yeah. And it was good enough for Dad and it's good enough for us. At least, it was until ten minutes ago." Dean was confused as hell. He hadn't really had much of a clue that everything was eating at Sam. And, it was a hell of a time to bring it up. They were in the middle of nowhere being hunted by bitchy-assed fucking witches and Dean felt like he had been hung, drawn and quartered.

"It's never been what I wanted," Sam said. "I left for school because of you. I came back because you asked me to. You didn't want to hunt alone. I've stayed all this time because I couldn't leave you. But I can't see you like that again the way things are." The fact that Sam looked close to panicking made Dean feel out of his wheelhouse.

"Sam, what am I not understanding here? You make it sound like I've been dragging you around against your will for years. I asked you to come with me, I didn't _make_ you stay." Dean was willing to give his brother a lot of leeway but he hadn't _made_ Sam keep hunting with him.

"No, but I couldn't leave and it's not fair. I love you, Dean."

"I love you too, Sammy. But holy shit! Why are we going through all of this now?"

Sam groaned in frustration and launched himself forward. Dean held up his hands to defend against the attack he was certain was coming. But his hands only connected with his brother's chest.

Then Sam's mouth was _on_ Dean's. It hurt, at first, the collision was so hard it rattled Dean. He opened his mouth to protest and Sam moaned as he continued to _kiss_ his brother.

The sound of Sam's moan was like a punch to Dean's gut. His fingers curled into Sam's t-shirt as his lips softened against his brother's.

He was kissing Sam back which meant Sam was kissing him. And a surge of adrenaline and heat made Dean feel like he was drowning all over again.

He let go of Sam's shirt then shoved his brother back as hard as he could.

The look on Sam's face was one of absolute _pain_. He'd fallen back onto his ass and ended up pressed awkwardly against the tent wall.

Dean could only stare at Sam as his brain tried to come up with some kind of explanation for what had happened. Sam had kissed him and the worst part about it was that Dean had felt the kiss everywhere in his body.

There was still heat whirring away in Dean's body. He felt like he was vibrating and like he was going to throw up the lead-weight of guilt that was suddenly lingering in his stomach.

Sam looked like a wild animal that had been cornered. His cheeks were red, his eyes wide and his chest was rising and falling so quickly that it looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

There hadn't been a lot of moments in Dean's life when he hadn't known what to do. He had no idea what to do as he sat there looking at his brother.

"I'm sorry," Sam said in a pinched voice.

"Sam-"

"- I shouldn't have. I don't know where that came from. It shouldn't have happened." As he spoke Sam was moving closer to the tent flap.

Dean was frozen. His arms were paralyzed; his hands were lead weights in his lap. All he could do was watch Sam as he moved further away.

"Sam-"

"Don't try and - this is on me. I'm sorry." Sam managed to get to the flap of the tent and pushed it open. He climbed out and for a few long moments all that was visible were his jeans then they were gone.

As the flap closed Dean found himself still staring. He had _no_ idea what he'd just been through. He was fighting an overwhelming urge to just lie down, close his eyes and pretend that nothing had happened.

But there was no way Dean could forget the way Sam's lips had felt on his. He couldn't forget the heat that had flown through his body when Sam had moaned. It had the feel of _pleasure_ all over it and Dean would never forget the sound of it.

He just didn't know what to do.

The fire was still popping and spitting. Sam's footsteps had stopped shortly after he'd left the tent. He was probably sitting by the fire.

Dean rubbed at the throbbing ache in his temples. He was going to hell. He had always been going to hell but there had to be a special wing for people who get turned on by a kiss from their brother.

The weight of what had happened was settling down on Dean. " _Jesus_ Christ."

He let himself fall back to his sleeping bag. " _Jesus_ ," he said again. This was something that needed to be fixed really quickly. He closed his eyes and waited for Sam's return.

-=-=-=-

It was a long time before Sam came back to the tent. Dean was beginning to wonder if his brother was going to come back at all.

When Sam finally made his way back into the tent Dean was lying on his sleeping bag. He'd spent entirely too long thinking.

"Hey," Sam said. He pulled his boots off and left them ready at the door. "Put out another salt ring, just in case. It's been quiet though."

"Been pretty fucking quiet in here too," Dean said gruffly. "It's almost like I was alone. Oh wait. I _was_ alone." Dean had gotten steadily more angry the longer Sam had stayed away. It really wasn't fair. 

"I ... wasn't sure what I should say. I figure there's not much I can say that would-"

"-Fix this? No, Sam. But I can guarantee you that ignoring me for hours isn't gonna do a damn thing to make anything better."

Sam was silent for a few moments then he nodded. "Fair enough."

"So. How about you say something that makes me feel less like I want to punch you." It was the only thing that Dean could come up with. It wasn't _the kiss_. He wasn't sure he could even face a discussion about that. But leaving him to stew on everything alone was just shitty.

"I didn't plan that," Sam said. He just stared at Dean for a while as though he was expecting that to be enough.

"Okay. And?"

"And?" Sam sat down cross legged on his sleeping bag. He tucked his hair behind his ear as he stared down at his brother.

"What happened in here? What was ... that?" When Dean put it all on Sam it was easier to deal with. If Sam had never kissed Dean he would never have been in the position to feel good. _Sam's fault._

Furrows appeared in Sam's brow and he half smiled then bit down on his bottom lip. "Dean. I don't - I don't know what. I wasn't thinking. This hunt has made me crazy. And then you got hurt. I thought you were _dead_. You understand that, right? And, for what? A few stupid teenagers? I don't care about them."

It was a little shocking to hear Sam say that. The reason they went through what they did. Saving people meant something. Dean was pretty sure it meant something to both of them. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do," Sam insisted. "Why do other people have to mean more than us? Tell me that." Sam was flushed and his eyes were wide and glassy.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows and gaped at his brother. "No one is more important than anyone else. But we have the background, the know-how to make some people's lives a lot better. That's important."

"Yeah, and we've done our share, Dean. What does it have to cost us before we've done enough?" Sam's voice wavered and he grabbed a handful of his hair. "I can't do this."

"Can't do what? Talk to me. Tell me what the hell is going on." Dean was quickly losing his mind.

Anger remodelled the expression on Sam's face. "I kissed you.I was freaked out. I love you, Dean. You're all I have. You're all I need. I know you don't feel the same and I made a mistake." Sam was breathing so quickly that he choked when he finished speaking.

Dean sat up and reached for Sam's hand. Sam tried to avoid his brother's touch but Dean persisted. He threaded his fingers through his brother's and studied Sam's face. "It's okay, Sam."

"You don't have to say that. I get how messed up that was. I know." Sam's eyes were red-rimmed and his fingers held on to Dean's tightly.

"I'm not saying what I think you need to hear. I'm saying it because I mean it, okay?"

Sam frowned and shrugged a shoulder. "I guess."

They sat there for a while then Sam pulled his hand away. He combed his fingers through his hair and looked a little nervous.

Dean was beginning to realize the extent of Sam's feelings. It made Dean feel better _and_ worse about his own reaction. He was shocked that being kissed by Sam had made him feel heated and shaken. he felt like he should have had the opposite reaction. Hell, he _knew_ he should have.

-=-=-=-

It was just easier for Dean to focus on Sam and what was going on in his head. "How long?"

Looking a little startled, Sam chewed on his bottom lip for a while before answering. "A long time. It. It crept up on me. You were so good after ... Jess. I relied on you to keep me on the road. I felt like I was always seconds from losing control." Sam looked down at his hands. "Guess I did lose control a few times."

"Don't go back to things that are over and done with," Dean said quickly. There had been times that he hadn't been sure that he'd be able to forgive Sam for some of the things he had done. But when Dean put things behind him he made sure they stayed there. That went double for Sam's mistakes.

"Why aren't you freaking out? Why don't you hate me?" Sam asked nervously.

There were a few answers that Dean could give. The truth was something he didn't think would help Sam. Yeah. The kiss had confused Dean. It had made him feel _want_ at the same time as he felt the need to protect his brother. It wasn't clear who Dean wanted to protect his brother from. He didn't really want to try and figure out the answer.

"You're my brother. We've been through a hell of a lot together, Sam. I don't think I could ever hate you. Yeah, I've been pissed at you, pretty damned angry. You must know that, right?"

When Sam looked up he blinked a few times and shrugged a shoulder. "Sam. Nothing is more important that you. Nothing ever."

"Even this."

"Especially this," Dean answered easily. "I'm awesome. How could you not want me?"

Sam groaned and looked _really_ embarrassed. A red flush began to creep up his neck and he rubbed at it. "Dean _Jesus_."

"Okay!" Dean smiled warmly and cuffed Sam on the shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy. Let's just get through this job. Then how 'bout we talk some time off?"

Sam looked a little suspicious but he half-smiled. "Really?"

"Why not? We've earned it." 

There was a noise outside the tent and the brother's froze. Dean strained to hear any indication that they might be in for another adventure. When there was no further noise Dean relaxed a little.

Dean sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "I gotta sleep. I'm still completely beat." 

"Of course you are," Sam agreed. He looked a little relieved and settled for the time being. Dean was able to relax and lay down. The sleep bag felt _way_ softer than it was but that was because Dean was so relieved to be resting. 

His heart was thumping a little too loudly in his ears and Dean knew it was the kiss. He didn't want to think about it but it was lurking there on the edges of his awareness. It was too big Dean to deal with it in the middle of what they were going through. Things were dangerous enough without him being distracted by his _feelings_ for his brother. It might be nothing more than an excuse to avoid facing it but Dean was okay with that.

The lantern clicked off and Dean heard Sam unzip his sleeping bag and climb into it. It took a while for Dean's eyes to adjust to the darkness. When he could see a little detail he looked over in Sam's direction. He couldn't tell if Sam's eyes were open but he could make out his brother's outline.

He wasn't sure why but he reached out and settled his hand on Sam's shoulder. He squeezed gently and then let go.

Sam was important and Dean wanted to make sure his brother always knew that.

-=-=-=-

The night was completely uneventful. Dean Slept through until the sun came up. He crept from the tent and started the fire so he could have coffee ready when Sam woke up.

The day would be a lot of reading and a lot of searching. Sam would have to continue working on decoding the book of shadows. Dean was going to search as much of the clearing as possible for the buried box of whatever-the-hell he was looking for.

And while they were accomplishing that they would have to keep _the kiss_ in the back of their minds.

_In the back of his mind_. Right. Dean was pretty sure he would think of it every time he looked at his brother. It was strange. He _knew_ that he should feel freaked out about it. But, he was more concerned about the fact that he _wasn't_ freaking out.

They were brothers. They'd been through some pretty messed up shit. They got through everything because they were family and they were together. There had been a lot of times when that was all that kept Dean going. If he knew that he had Sam's back he would go through hell to protect his brother.

But ... a kiss.

Once the coffee was perked Dean poured himself some and sat in front of the fire trying not to think about Sam. That seemed to mean that he was thinking _only_ about Sam.

Dean had never had a problem with men who had sex with men but it wasn't something he'd ever thought of doing or wanting.

But unfamiliar feelings had swept through Dean's body when Sam's lips had met is. He'd never felt any of it when he'd kissed women. And he _really_ liked kissing women.

But Sam.

But _Sam_.

When push came to shove Dean's life was centered on Sam. There was no one he would rather be with. There was no one he trusted more. No one made Dean laugh harder and no one but Sam ever made him cry.

Maybe it wasn't so strange that it felt so good to feel the warm slide of Sam's lips - 

"Daydreaming or have you actually gone back to sleep sitting up?"

Dean jumped and spilled coffee on his jeans. He fumbled the mug for a few moments then managed to set it down on the log besides him. "Fuck, Sam. Of all places to sneak around."

"All I did was come out here."

When Dean looked up he did a double take. Half of Sam's hair was stuck flat against his head and the other half was sticking out like a sideways Mohawk.

Dean couldn't help smirking. It was pretty disarming. It might even be Sam's super power. He was such a dork it was impossible to stay pissed at him.

As Sam made his way around the fire he stumbled sleepily. He grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Sam kicked a stump closer to the fire and sat down. "Nothing happened last night."

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked over at his brother.

Sam looked down quickly. "Well, I mean -"

"I know, Sam." It made Dean feel a little better than Sam looked a little uncomfortable.

The mug in Sam's hands was steaming and he was clutching it close to his body. 

"Did you sleep okay?" Sam asked quietly.

"Like the dead." Dean was still feeling pretty stiff and a lot of the cuts and bruises were sore. He'd been so exhausted that he hadn't had any trouble sleeping.

"Dean." Sam cleared his throat and looked over at Dean with a sad look on his face.

"Sam. It's alright. Everything's alright. You. Me. So let's just get through this, okay?" Dean always knew when Sam was unsettled and it wasn't good. He needed to be on his A game or one of them would get hurt. Again.

Even though Sam was nodding he didn't look convinced.

Dean stood and stepped closer to Sam and the fire. He stretched his arms out and warmed his hands for a while.

"I was thinkin' about after," Dean said.

"After?"

"Goin' somewhere. I know this place. It's cabins on a lake. Guy who runs it is a hunter. I've gone there a couple of times."

Sam nodded and drank some more coffee.

"There's a boat, a dock, fishing poles and he'll stock the fridge with cold beer. Sound good?" Dean glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Sounds like it would be _really_ good.

"I'll give him a call when we're back in town." They could both use a break. But, more than that Dean wanted time for them to figure out what was what was going on between them.

Sam was still quiet and Dean reached out to curl his hand over the back of his brother's neck. He rubbed his thumb through the soft hairs at the nape of Sam's neck.

Sam seemed to relax a little. Dean could feel the tension leaving his brother's shoulders. It was a good sign.

"I've gotta get started on that book," Sam murmured. He leaned into Dean's leg slightly and sighed.

"And, _I_ am going to be digging like a madman," Dean answered. "No stone unturned."

When Sam looked up he was smiling.

They were over the speed bump and just needed to get the job done and get the _hell_ out of there.

-=-=-=-

Throughout the day Dean's frustration built. They had dug up every square inch of earth in the circle since they'd arrived, and they had found nothing. All Dean had produced were a ton of piles of dirt. He was dirty and sweaty and hungry.

Sam hadn't fared much better. He hadn't been able to completely translate the spell but the word _Rowan_ came up repeatedly. It wasn't much of a clue as far as Dean could see but that hadn't stopped Sam. The youngest Winchester was still hunched over the Book of Shadows when Dean finally sank down onto the log beside his brother.

"Sam, I am _so_ done with digging. I have dirt in places I didn't even know - anyway. Done." Dean picked up his mug and filled it with water. He drained it in a few gulps then refilled it and poured it over his head.

Sam chuckled and put the Book of Shadows down so that he could rub his eyes. "I swear I just about have this thing memorized. I'm close to figuring out the spell I think."

"I'm starting to feel like we're going to be here for a long time," Dean muttered. He lifted the bottom of his t-shirt up and wiped his face. When he lowered the shirt to wipe his mouth he caught Sam stealing a glance at his body.

For some reason a little shiver of pleasure skipped down Dean's back.

When their gazes met Sam looked down quickly.

"Let's swim before the sun goes down." Dean dragged the bag of food closer and searched for something tasty.

Sam cleared his throat and shifted nervously. "Oh. Okay. Just let me finish this page."

Smirking, Dean picked up a bag of cookies and pulled out a handful. "Okay, Sammy. But hurry it up."

-=-=-=-

The river was cold on Dean's feet but the sound of all that water rushing past was soothing. He heard Sam's boots crunching on the shore and looked back over his shoulder. "It's cold."

Dean hadn't waited for Sam. He'd walked down to the river, taken off his shoes and socks, rolled up his jeans and waded in. The river bottom was quite sandy but, damn, the water was cold. 

"Probably mountain run off," Sam said.

"Sure feels like it. My goosebumps have goosebumps."

"Not really making me want to get in," Sam replied glumly.

"Well, I stink. You'll be thankful later if I wash now." Dean grinned and balled up his t-shirt to use it as a cloth.

He bent and soaked it in the water before rubbing it over his chest and under his arms. His jaw was clenched against the compelling need to shiver. "Bracing!"

"Right." Even though Sam sounded sceptical he was pulling his boots off. When he was finished he rolled his jeans up and waded in beside his brother. " _Jesus_."

"Yeah." Dean continued to wash as he watched Sam shed his t-shirt.

Sam had really bulked up in the previous couple of years. Dean hadn't really noticed the full extent of it. Usually by the time they were collapsing into bed he was too tired to keep his eyes open.

In the golden light from the afternoon sun, covered in water droplets, Sam was striking. His muscles cut into the natural curves of his body.

"What?" Sam froze with his balled up t-shirt pressed to his abs.

"What? Nothing." Dean looked away and focused on scrubbing the dirt off his arms and hands. He could hear Sam splashing behind him and tried to ignore it.

"Can't believe you're back in the water already," Sam said. He'd moved a little closer.

"Why?" Dean hung his soaked t-shirt over his shoulder and turned towards Sam.

Looking a little surprised, Sam frowned. "The other night? You drowned, Dean. I would have thought you would have been a bit freaked out about the river."

Dean was surprised his brother looked so concerned. "Wasn't the river that attacked me."

"True." Sam hesitated a moment then lifted a hand and traced one of the huge bruises on Dean's chest.

The touch made Dean suck in his breath and he struggled to keep his eyes open. _Fuck_. Sam had changed everything.

"These must hurt," Sam said softly. His fingers kept moving over Dean's chest, trailing along the cuts and bruises.

Dean had to step back. There was a ball of emotion welling up inside him and it felt like he couldn't breathe.

The expression on Sam's face hardened and he dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry."

"No. Sam, it's not..." Dean cleared his throat. He didn't even have the words to tell Sam that it was completely overwhelming. It was too much and too little at the same time. Dean didn't even know how to process it.

Sam busied himself with splashing water over his chest and arms. He turned away from Dean and splashed back to the bank.

"Sam? It's not that-"

"-it's okay, Dean. I get it." Sam forced a smile onto his face. "I'm gonna go and change."

Dean's shoulders fell and he closed his eyes. "No. You don't get it, Sam."

But when Dean opened his eyes Sam had already disappeared into the trees.

Wading out of the water, Dean sat down on the rocky bank and sighed. He had _no_ idea how to talk to Sam. Things had crossed over into unfamiliar territory. He didn't understand what he was feeling. How could he be expected to explain it to Sam?

_Impossible._ Emotions and feelings and all that shit were impossible.

-=-=-=-

Darkness crept over the clearing slowly. As the visibility dropped Dean found himself tensing up. Maybe it was some kind of sixth sense but it felt like something was coming.

"Feels a little imposing, doesn't it?" Sam rubbed his hands together to warm them up then held them out towards the fire.

"It does." Dean's gaze moved slowly around the clearing. It was very still, eerily so and Dean didn't like it.

Sam pulled his hands up into the sleeves of his sweater. The sweater reminded Dean of the ones that East Coast fisherman wear. He was pretty sure he'd never seen it before.

"Sam? When the _hell_ do you find time to shop for clothes?"

"What?" Sam blinked a few times as he peered up at his brother.

"The sweater."

Sam looked down and smiled. "Had it a long time. Can't even remember where I got it. Wanted something warm."

Dean nodded then went to sit down beside Sam.

Sam smiled. "You remember when we used to wrap up in a blanket in the back seat while Dad was driving? I used to feel so warm and safe. Wanted something that made me feel like that."

Dean remembered it well. Dad's music would twist up with the steady purr of the engine and the wind licking at the windows. It all took on a mystical feeling in Dean's memory.

"I remember all those nights," Dean said.

"You ever miss those days?" Sam stared at the fire and folded his arms tightly across his chest.

Dean had never really thought about it. He missed their father sometimes, he missed his more carefree days.. "I miss Dad. Sometimes, I miss the times when Dad was calling the shots and I could just relax. No pressure to come up with the answers myself."

"Not much fun though. If I hadn't had you ... I think I might have gone crazy." Sam leaned in closer to the fire.

"Same." Dean wasn't going to get into it but his life pretty much began and ended with Sam. He couldn't explain it really, but as fucked up as things had gotten between them sometimes, Sam was the one constant for Dean. It meant something.

"You think we're gonna figure this one out?" When Sam looked up exhaustion was written all over him. There were faint lines on his forehead and his eyes were heavy lidded.

"Yeah. We always figure these things out. You know that." Dean smiled and bumped his shoulder against Sam's.

"There's gonna come a time when we run into something we can't beat. You know that, right?" Sam looked so worried that something cold punched in Dean's chest.

"Sam! Have some faith! You and I always work things out. It's what we do. We'll find this damn box of... of whatever. We'll salt and burn it and this will be over." Dean wasn't quite as confident as he tried to sound for Sam's benefit.

All Sam did was shrug. His fingers were digging into his thighs; his knuckles were white.

"Sammy?"

Sam nodded then looked up. 

"Sam, we're going to be fine." Dean slid his arm over Sam's shoulder and squeezed the back of his neck. "Come on. What's with all the gloom and doom? Huh?"

"Being out here. It's like being in a foxhole during a war. Only everything we're fighting is in the foxhole with us." Sam let his head hang heavy between his shoulders.

The tension in Sam's muscles made his neck feel like rock. Dean rubbed at the taut muscles gently. He knew what Sam meant. But there was no other way for them to deal with the spirits than to confront them directly. "We just gotta find that damn box."

Sam was still and the only sound was the fire crackling.

The sun was going down and the flames seemed to glow more vibrantly. They only had a little time left.

-=-=-=-

As the sun left the sky completely Dean continued to hunt for the box full of _witch bits_. He dug around the outside of the clearing and there was nothing. He searched through the woods surrounding the clearing for any signs of paths or that something might have been buried. There were a handful of red herrings and that was it.

The fucking box had to be there somewhere. Dean _knew_ it. 

"Hey, Dean!" Sam called out.

"Yeah." Dean stepped over a fallen tree that was covered in lime green moss.

"Hot chocolate?"

Smiling, Dean nodded. "Sure, Sammy."

After a final look around he headed over to the fire to forage through the food bag. "You should rest your eyes. You're gonna go blind in this light."

Although the sky still held some color the clearing was murky except for this ring of light that extended out from the fire. It felt more comfortable there out of reach of the darkness. Dean didn't usually feel that way.

Sam groaned and set the Book of Shadows down on the log near the fire. When Dean turned around Sam was rubbing at his eyes.

Dean busied himself with boiling water for Sam's hot chocolate. He found that he kept glancing up and looking out past the circle of trees. It could be just paranoia but it felt like there were eyes on them. He shivered as he poured water into Sam's mug and stirred it. It smelled good and he inhaled deeply.

"Here you go, Sam."

Sam wrapped both paws around the mug and smiled at his brother. "Thanks. You having one?"

Dean held up his own mug. "Instant coffee. All the caffeine. None of the flavor."

Chuckling, Sam pushed a lot further into the flames with the toe of his boot. "That whole spell is only five lines long."

"And?" The log Dean was sitting on was uncomfortable and he shifted around a little.

"Well. It doesn't seem to do anything. Not for me anyway." Sam sighed. "Maybe it only works if you're a natural witch or something."

It didn't seem right to Dean but then he'd been wrong about witches before. Their special brand of fucked up could be really difficult to predict.

"And Rowan. Rowan is on the top of the page," Sam added. There were furrows in Sam's brow and he was staring into the fire as he became lost in thought.

The look seemed to be present more and more often on Sam's face. Sometimes Dean wondered if his brother felt responsible for stopping whatever was hurting people. But those lives weren't all Sam's responsibility. Dean needed to spend more time making sure that Sam was _okay_. He just wished he knew how to do that. 

"So, what does Rowan make you think of?" Sam asked. He sounded frustrated.

The fire popped and Dean brushed embers off his jeans. "Okay. A name? Roanoke? Or the name of one of the original families?"

"I double checked the names and there's no one with a first or last name of Rowan." Sam scratched at his forehead and sighed.

"A town... _God_ , I don't know, Sammy."

"Wait." Sam stood so quickly he almost fell over. He darted over to the tent and Dean could hear rustling. When Sam emerged from the tent he was holding their father's journal. "I think it might be a plant or something."

As Sam sat down he was already flipping through the worn pages. "I saw something in here. I'm sure of it."

The flames in front of Dean wavered, almost went out and then burst up towards the stars. Dean shivered and the next breath he blew out was a cloud of vapor. "Sam..."

"A tree! Rowan is a tree. I knew it was-" Sam's words were cut off in a strangled cry.

Time sped to a blur around Dean. The fire burst to life and sent glowing embers in all directions.

The skin on Dean's face felt like it was on fire and he yanked his shirt up to rub at his face. He swore and stumbled back from the fire. His boots collided with the log and he fell backwards onto the ground. All the breath shot out of his lungs.

"Dea-" Sam's voice was full of fear and it sent a cold rush through Dean's body.

Still blinking away the ash from his eyes Dean climbed to his feet and staggered towards the sound of Sam's voice. "Sammy?"

The wind whipped around the clearing and all Dean could hear was the rustling of branches and leaves. As the wind peaked it sounded like a freight train barrelling through the clearing.

Finally, Dean was able to see and his blood felt like lead in his veins.

Sam was pinned against one of the old trees. He was clawing at something invisible at his throat.

It took seconds for Deano move but it felt like years as he watched the way Sam's body writhed against the old tree.

"Sam." Dean sprang forward and grabbed Sam's arms. Sam’s fingers dug into Dean's flesh and they both tried to pull him free of the thing that held him captive.

Sam was mouthing a word and Dean tried to yank his brother free while he watched Sam’s lips move desperately.

_Tree_. _Rowan_.

It felt absolutely wrong but Dean pulled away from Sam and threw himself towards the tent . He struggled frantically through the tent flap and grabbed the iron chain that was on the floor.

Dean spun and threw the balled up chain to Sam. His aim was good and Sam managed to stretch the chain out the flip it up above his head. The moment the iron clanked against the tree Sam dropped back down to the ground and began gulping air. He managed to speak in between breaths as he rubbed at his throat. "Tree. The stuff. Don't think it's a box. I think it's _in_ the rowan."

"What?" Dean stumbled forward until he was kneeling at Sam's side. He couldn't help sliding his fingers into Sam's hair.

"Rowan. It's also mountain ash." Sam lifted a shaky hand and pointed to the large tree at the northern point of the pentagram. "Check that tree."

The wind picked up again and ean had barely managed to get back on his feet when Sam was grabbed again.

It was amazing how quickly things could turn bad and it was equally amazing how many thoughts could go through Dean's mind.

He saw invisible hands press their shape into the red flesh on Sam's neck. As Sam was dragged backwards towards one of the trees he fumbled with the iron chain.

It was only seconds. _Seconds_. And Dean had to choose between heading for the rowan to find the witch's remains or racing back to free Sam again. The problem was that it would keep grabbing Sam until Dean put it out of its misery.

He hesitated for a heartbeat. As soon as he saw that Sam still had a good grip on the iron Dean spun and ran straight to the rowan.

He fell to his knees as he got to the tree and slid the last couple of feet. His hands moved frantically over the deep ridges in the bark at the bottom of the old tree's trunk.

Splinters of bark jammed under Dean's nails as he clawed desperately for some kind of opening. "Fuck!"

Sam's body thumped to the ground and Dean glanced over his shoulder in time to see Sam on his hands and knees gasping for breath. The chain was clutched in his hands and he waved Dean on.

"Hold on, Sammy!" Dean redoubled his efforts. He scrambled around the base of the tree; he dug up earth and uncovered roots with his bare hands. There was nothing and yet he kept searching.

Sam let out another heart-wrenching cry and Dean nearly fell sideways as he grasped frantically at the bark.

Finally, Dean reached out for a huge root and it felt loosen. With hope blooming in his chest Dean clawed the earth away as fast as he could.

The wind whipped at Dean's hair and gravel and leaves felt like pins being driven into his cheeks. He had to close his eyes so he could keep digging in the whirlwind of projectiles that were being thrown at him.

His fingers hit something hard; it was something that felt completely out of place in the soft earth. Dean's nails dug into the dirt and he managed to dig out the outline of a small box. It _had_ to be what they were looking for.

"Found it!" Dean yelled. He dug in and threw earth aside then tore a tree root right out of the ground. The box was suddenly free. It shocked Dean and he froze for a few frantic heartbeats before grabbing the box and using the tree to stand. He flung himself towards the fire as he opened the box.

It was the final pieces of the witches. Hair, teeth, nails and some kind of dehydrated lump of flesh that Dean didn't even _want_ to identify.

He skidded to a halt at the fire and looked over to see Sam halfway up the trunk of the tree. He was flailing his legs around and trying to pry something from his neck.

Sam couldn't breathe.

He was out of Dean's reach. It was up to Dean to save his brother from the fireside.

Dean grabbed up the salt from his bag and emptied it into the box then threw it straight into the fire.

The flames exploded up out of the circle of stones and Dean held his arm up in front of his face.

He took a few steps backwards and turned to run towards Sam.

Sam was still. He was still feet higher than Dean could reach and his face was red, his lips blue.

"Burn, you fuckers!" Dean yelled. He just needed Sam to fall and he would be fine. His air hadn't been cut off long enough to kill him. Sam would be okay. Sam _had_ to be okay.

The flames crackled behind Dean but he didn't take his eyes of his brother.

The wind roared through the clearing nearly knocking Dean sideways. He braced himself and then the wind dropped. All the chaos whirling around in the clearing disappeared in an instant. And Sam fell.

Dean held out his arms and caught Sam under the arms as he slid down the rough tree trunk.

Sam was a dead weight in his brother's arms. Dean wrestled his brother's lifeless body down to the ground.

Sam's face was covered with cuts and scrapes, his lips were still blue and his lashes rested gently on his cheeks.

"Oh, no you don't," Dean whispered. He scrambled around to Sam's side and shoved his jacket out of the way so he could slap a hand down on Sam's chest. "Sam!"

There was no change and Dean Could feel fear lurking at the periphery of his thoughts.

He yanked Sam's head back with his hair, pulled his chin down and took a deep breath. He leaned down and sealed his lips over Sam's and gave him the breath he'd just sucked in.

Sam's chest rose then fell and Dean blew in another breath. His fingers tightened in Sam's hair until he was holding a fistful.

One hand on his brother's chest, the other with a death grip on Sam's hair, Dean sent breath after breath into his brother's lungs.

His mind couldn't accept that Sam still wasn't breathing on his own. He would breathe. With each lungful of air Dean kissed into Sam's lungs he said a little prayer to whoever might be out there listening.

Sam's body arched slightly and Dean pulled back. There was a horrifying few seconds of silence then a coughing fit shook Sam's body.

Relief washed down over Dean so quickly he felt lightheaded. His blood was racing so fast it felt like it was completely bypassing his heart. He fell down next to Sam and curled his arm around Sam's head. He pulled Sam close until he could hear the wheeze of his shallow breathing.

"Jesus _Christ_ , Sam."

It had been _too_ close a call and Dean wasn't ready to let his unconscious brother go for a very long time. In fact, by the time Dean let go of Sam and propped himself up on an elbow the fire was only orange embers.

After one more check to make sure Sam was still breathing, Dean headed over to the fire and built it up. There was _no_ way that he wanted anything in the box left unburned. When he was confident the fire would burn for a while Dean headed back to his brother.

Still unconscious, Sam had some color back in his cheeks and his lips were pink again. "You scared me, Sammy."

Dean stroked Sam's hair and smiled slightly. But when he looked down he could see the angry flesh around Sam's neck. It was already bruising and would be painful when Sam woke up.

Somehow the tent had remained standing during the storm of debris. Relieved, Dean bent down and slid his arms under Sam's. He hauled Sam back towards the tent. He hadn't had to lift Sam in a while; the youngest Winchester had put on some weight.

He tripped just as he got to the door of the tent and fell onto his ass. He struggled for a few minutes to pull Sam inside and get him settled on his sleeping bag. Dean flopped down onto his side and watched his brother breathe. He'd never been happier to see anything in his entire life.

Keeping his hand over Sam's heart Dean closed his eyes for a few moments. The sting of tears arrived unbidden and Dean pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes and groaned. "Get it together."

There was no time for Dean to wallow in his relief. He needed to make sure Sam was okay and keep him warm.

Dean crawled back to the tent flap and eased his aching body out. If Dean felt as bad as he did he couldn't imagine how bad Sam would feel when he woke up.

Their supplies were all over the clearing and Dean spent the better part of half an hour picking up what could be salvaged. In between retrieving things Dean kept an eye on the fire and his brother.

He peered through the tent flap every so often to make sure Sam was okay. He had fetched some fresh water from the river and once the camp was ship shape Dean crawled back into the tent.

Dean leaned over his unconscious brother and lifted him up to a sitting position so he could pull his jacket off. He took comfort in the warmth of Sam's breath against his neck. He never wanted to experience Sam _not_ breathing again.

The unpleasant thought made Dean shiver and he squeezed Sam a little closer.

He pulled Sam's dirty t-shirt off and gently laid him back down on his sleeping bag. His eyes widened when he saw the skin on Sam's neck. There was a rope-sized band of raw skin that was already tinged by the beginnings of bruising. Sam's neck was going to be really sore.

After a moment's indecision Dean reached out and unbuttoned Sam's jeans. It took a bit of elbow grease to get them and Sam's boots off.

Sam's legs were a little banged up but not as badly as his neck and torso.

Dean pulled his own t-shirt off and soaked it with cold river water. He laid it across Sam's throat in the hopes that it would keep the swelling down. He pulled the top of the sleeping bag open and pulled it over Sam. _God_ he couldn't remember the last time he had put Sam to bed. Probably when Sam had indulged a little too much. That didn't happen very often once Sam had gotten older.

That line of thinking reminded Dean of the flask in his backpack. It was stowed in the side pocket and Dean pulled it out. He opened it quickly and took a few mouthfuls of whisky. The fiery taste of it was good and Dean enjoyed the feel of it roughing up his throat. Hopefully, it would help with the nervous shake the events of the evening had left in Dean's hands. It was about Sam. _Losing_ Sam was something Dean couldn't deal with at all. It was best put out of his mind completely now that he was pretty sure Sam was okay.

There was a quiet sound from Sam's sleeping bag and Dean whipped his head around to see Sam blinking his eyes open.

"Sammy. Hey there. Don't get up." Dean pressed his palm to Sam's bare chest.

For a while Sam just looked confused. He coughed, groaned in pain then covered Dean's hands with his own. "You get 'em?"

Dean was taken aback by how gruff Sam's voice was. " _We_ got 'em, Sam. You were right."

"Right?" Sam licked his lips and groaned.

Dean wasn't sure if Sam couldn't remember anything at all or if he was just having some trouble getting back with the program as he regained consciousness.

"You said the box of _witch bits_ would be buried near the rowan tree," Dean said quietly. "You remember?"

"You burned it?" Sam's fingers tightened on Dean's hand and he kept it pressed to his chest.

Nodding, Dean reached up with his free hand and turned the cloth over on Sam's neck. He saw Sam wince and he pressed his palm to Sam's cheek. "Is it bad?"

Tears brimmed in Sam's eyes and he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

That meant it probably hurt like hell. Dean smoothed Sam's hair back from his face and smiled down at his brother. "Does the cold cloth help?"

Sam nodded slightly but said nothing. His lip twitched and he closed his eyes for a few moments. When his eyes opened again he looked sad.

"What's wrong?" Dean hated it when he couldn't fix whatever was bothering his little brother. It was one of the worst feelings in the world.

"Sorry," Sam said in a hoarse whisper.

"What?" Dean chuckled quietly and finally pried his hand out from under his brother's. Dean laid down on his own sleeping bag but stayed close to Sam.

"Let you down," Sam rasped.

"What?!" Dean exclaimed. "You didn't ... where the hell did _that_ come from?"

"Didn't have your back," Sam said weakly.

The fact that Sam would even worry about that after everything he'd been through was ridiculous. "Sam. You listen to me. This isn't about who did what. You were nearly hanged for fuck sakes. You weren't even breathing when I finally got you down. I was ... I was ... you..." Dean's throat closed up and he dropped his gaze to the scratches in Sam's chest.

"Dean."

"Sam, I _never_ want to see you like that again. You always have my back." There was so much more that Dean wanted to say but everything inside him was a big mess of fucked up feelings and emotions. Everything felt right and wrong at the same time. But it was _Sam_. It all began and ended with Sam.

Sam's fingers wove through Dean's and he held on so tightly it hurt. "I'm sorry."

"Just, just _shut_ up, Sam." There was a pain in Dean's chest. It felt a little like someone was pulling his ribs too tight.

The skin on Sam's chest was flushed, his bottom lip quivered for a moment and Dean's heart felt raw and torn up. It was too much.

Something inside Dean buckled and he fell forward into Sam's body. His lips parted and stayed a breath away from Sam's. "Sam."

The look in Sam's eyes made it nearly impossible for Dean to breathe. He slid his hand up Sam's chest, ghosted his fingers over the raw flesh on Sam's neck then grabbed a handful of hair. "Don't do that again."

Lips parted, eyes glistening with tears, Sam nodded. And then his hands moved over to Dean's waist.

The burn of Sam's touch set something alight inside Dean's. It was like each thump of his heart pushed him a little closer to Sam. He licked his lips and the sigh that left Sam's lips was warm against Dean's.

Giving in to the pounding of his heart, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to his brother's. The moment their mouths came together Sam's nails cut into Dean's side. Heat exploded into Dean's veins and his body jolted.

_It all began and ended with Sam._

The kiss became more urgent and Dean moaned into his brother's mouth. The sound he made startled him and he pulled away. He held himself there, _so_ near Sam and tried to understand what he was doing.

What _was_ he doing? Kissing Sam was definitely not the way to take care of him and it certainly wouldn't keep him safe.

"Dean?" Sam's grip on Dean's side loosened a little but he didn't move his hand. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry. I. It was. Okay. Don't freak out." As Dean stumbled over his words he felt stuck. He didn't know whether to move closer or further away.

"I could be wrong but I don't think I'm the one freaking out," Sam said. He blinked a few times and his gaze intensified.

There was no question that Dean was freaking out. One kiss he could handle. Knowing Sam might have feelings for him was okay. He'd been okay about everything until he'd realized how turned on he got kissing his brother.

Lots of things could be forgiven in a foxhole but kissing Sam. It was unforgivable. But, at the same time, Dean couldn’t bear the thought of it never happening again.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam lifted his hand and pressed it to his brother's cheek.

The touch was the last straw for Dean and he pulled away quickly. "I'm sorry. You're probably really exhausted. And hurt. You're hurt."

Dean's thoughts were speeding through his mind. He hadn't expected the second kiss to be _so_ much more intense. The ground had been ripped out from under him. He shouldn't feel that way about Sam.

"What the fuck just happened?" Sam asked. He propped himself up on his elbows and winched when he turned to face Dean. His face was a little pale.

"You should lay down, Sam. You went through hell. Your throat must be killing you."

Sam frowned and his lips parted slowly as though he was trying to think of something to say. He shook his head slowly. "Tell me something that takes away the overwhelming urge I have to punch you."

"That's probably the best course of action," Dean said.

"That's not a good answer." Sam lowered himself back down to his sleeping bag.

"Can we do this later, Sam? It was Dean's last resort; it was the way he always hoped that he could put off having a discussion. It usually didn't work so he steeled himself for Sam to begin arguing.

Sam's brows relaxed and he sighed. Without another word Sam moved gingerly over onto his side. His shoulders were stiff and the cuts and bruises on his back were shockingly bright already.

Dean pressed his lips together tightly and reached out hesitantly. He touched the red skin near one of the larger cuts. "Sam."

"Please don't touch me."

"I'm sorry." It felt like acid was eating away at Dean's heart.

"Stop saying that," Sam said wearily.

Dean had never been quite so lost. No matter how often they fought, Dean could always see the light at the end of the tunnel. This time he was completely lost. "Sam. We can't."

"Why not?" Sam was still facing away but the tension in his back gave away how angry he was.

"Why _not_?" Dean withdrew his hand. "Well. Let's see. Oh yeah, we're brothers. Isn't that enough?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam said flatly. "No one knows. We have no one else. And our lives - our lives are _so_ fucked up. Do you think you and I are _normal_?"

It wasn't a question that Dean could answer so he closed his eyes to try and calm the panic he could feel rising from his gut. "I - don't understand all this."

"You weren't bothered by it yesterday. What changed?"

_What changed_ was that Dean felt his entire body come alive when he'd kissed Sam. Hell, he'd felt more alive in those few seconds than he ever had before. _That_ was dangerous. Something that intense would only be taken away from Dean. That was how things always went for him.

"What. Changed?" Sam insisted.

It felt like Dean's head was going to explode. Everything had derailed so quickly and all because of the _heat_ that had spun Dean out of control when he'd kissed his brother.

"Dean!" Sam rolled back so quickly he hurt himself. His hands moved to his throat and he gasped.

"Me!" yelled Dean. "I fucking changed. I _want_ you." He panted and watched as Sam stilled.

When he spoke again he was quieter. "At first, I figured that it was just ... just one of those things that happened. This time..." Dean shook his head as all the words he was trying to get out got all tangled.

After a painfully long silence Sam's expression softened. "This time ... what?"

"I felt it fucking everywhere. I'm _that_ messed up, Sammy. You happy now?" Dean could feel a burn in his throat and a tightness in his chest.

Sam got the look on his face that meant he thought Dean was some kind of madman but amusing nonetheless.

"What?" Dean said gruffly.

"Why can't it be okay?"

_Okay_? Dean wasn't sure that he could believe what Sam was saying. "If you don't know -"

"- I know all the morality; I know the social norms. But we're different. We're always been different. Every time we try other relationships they fail. Have you noticed that? The only relationship that works is you and me, Dean." A kind of calm seemed to have settled on Sam. He looked relaxed, sure of himself.

It was kind of a mind fuck for Dean. Everything had been turned upside down in twenty-four hours. "I think you hit your head or ... or going without oxygen gave you brain damage.

When Dean attempted to move away Sam grabbed his wrist. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me," Sam said.

A nervous laugh escaped Dean's lips and he tried to pull his hand away. "Don't be stupid."

"Tell me." The intensity in Sam's gaze was making sweat break out on Dean's forehead. There were times when Sam dug his heels in and wouldn't be swayed from the path he was on. This was one of those times.

"Stop it, Sam." Dean twisted his arm in his brother's grip but Sam held on tightly.

"Just tell me you don't want me, Dean and I will never bring it up again." Sam's grip was so tight Dean knew it would leave a bruise.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. They'd been in that spot before: the point of no return. If Dean went in the direction Sam wanted him to then nothing would ever be the same again.

"Sammy, why don't you. Why don't you just do what _you_ want?" Dean could live with that. He could do whatever Sam wanted him to do. He could take care of Sam.

"No." Sam shook his head. "I need to know what you want." Sam reached over with his free hand and cupped Dean's cheek. His thumb slid along Dean's bottom lip.

The touch was like a lit fuse and Dean shivered. How had he suddenly become so attuned to Sam? How had everything changed?

Sam's grip tightened on Dean's wrist and he ducked his head down so he could meet Dean's gaze.

As Dean watched, Sam's long, dark lashes fell to his cheeks. Those cheeks were so battered from Sam's encounter. Dean was reminded of how close he'd come to losing Sam.

All Dean had to do was let himself fall forward and he could catch Sam's lips with his. 

He let himself fall.

Sam caught Dean's shoulder and held on to him tightly. Their lips were crushed together. The terrifying heat ripped through Dean's body. With each pass of his lips over Sam's, Dean could feel pressure building in his chest. The kind of _want_ that was growing inside Dean was unfamiliar and frightening.

Sam's hand slid up Dean's arm and curled around his neck. His touch sparked against Dean's flesh. Dean had to withdraw enough to gasp for air and Sam's tongue crept forward to slide along Dean's bottom lip.

A shudder echoed through Dean's body and he pressed closer to the heat of Sam's bare chest. It was strange to have such a strong body beneath him and Dean felt a burst of pleasure. _Sam._ He wanted Sam.

Sam's breath was hot, his blunt nails dug into Dean's shoulder, and he wrapped his other arm around Dean.

There was something jarring about Sam being able to wrap Dean up in his arms. It was hotter than Dean felt it should be. "Jesus, Sam."

A groan rumbled in Sam's chest and he relaxed back onto his sleeping bag.

Dean was left panting; his body was vibrating with all the new sensations that Sam had brought out in him.

"Neck," Sam said in a low voice.

Guilt snapped at Dean and he held himself up over his brother's body. "God, I'm sorry."

"No. No." Sam winced when he shook his head. "Was good."

"Good?" Dean frowned. It wasn't like he expected Sam to say it was an earth-moving kiss. He just hadn't expected _good_.

"I forgot how fragile your ego is," Sam teased.

"You're funny for a guy who was hanging from an invisible noose a few hours ago." Dean's heart swelled with an uncomfortable amount of affection for his brother. He was in for a hell of a ride.

"I'm always funny," Sam mumbled. He rolled towards Dean and slipped his arm over Dean's waist. "This okay?"

Dean smiled and got comfortable. "Yeah, Sammy. It's okay."

-=-=-=- the end ... for now -=-=-=-


End file.
